


i was made for sunny days (i was made for you)

by nicheinhischest



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, american baseball au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicheinhischest/pseuds/nicheinhischest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't do dances," Niall repeats with a smile. "Don't do pool parties. What do you do, Zayn Malik?"</p><p>Zayn shrugs. "Play baseball. Date you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. winter of junior year. zayn, 17; niall, 16

**Author's Note:**

> So the assassin au was supposed to be my last 1d fic, but to end it on a "bad-ish people falling in love, no ot5" note kind of felt weird lol, so I've decided to post one more thing. 
> 
> If you followed my fic tumblr, or maybe saw a stray post on your timeline, I posted snippets of a baseball au I never finished. I decided to post it sporadically here instead, with extra parts that I hadn't put on tumblr. They are all from Zayn's pov, with the chapter title letting you know, roughly, when each event happens. The parts are posted in chronological order but other than that, it's more just slices of their life together :). Parts rating from Teen to Mature. Title is from ["I Was Made For Sunny Days" by the Weepies](http://youtu.be/-0z71SWcG2o). Just as a heads up - this is baseball heavy, but I'll try to explain things in the notes when I can.
> 
> Taken from my post on tumblr: **part of a larger, unfinished and unedited American AU ‘verse because I am nothing if not predictable. There’s lots of OT5, lots of Ziall - basically, it’s a baseball au that spans years set in a sort of Teen Wolfish -ism free world in which OT5 play in high school, but only Zayn goes pro**. Enjoy!

"Heads up!"

Zayn cranes his neck to see a baseball hurtling towards him, jumps away just in time for it to thump onto the grass and roll to a stop in front of his boots. The movement jerks the cigarette out of his hand at the same time, and it falls into a puddle of a tipped over Pepsi can.

Fuck. That was his last one.

"Shit, sorry man. You okay?"

Zayn picks up the ball, and looks towards the fence. There's a boy hanging over it, smiling lazily and wearing a baseball jersey, with an Under Armour long sleeve peeking out from the neck to combat the bitter February air. Zayn runs a thumb along the red stitching, shrugs.

"I'm fine."

"Sorry," the kid repeats, scratching under his cap. "We're doing pop flys, but Liam gets out of hand every time."

"I don't know who Liam is."

"I don't know who _you_ are."

"Zayn." He lobs the ball into the air, catches it. "I'm new."

The boy grins. His eyes turn into crinkly little half moon crescents. It's possibly the cutest thing Zayn's seen in weeks.

"Niall."

Zayn shrugs again. "Whatever."

Niall watches him lob the ball into the air over and over, and he sniffs suddenly, looks down at the grass. "Were you smoking?"

"Why? You gonna tell on me, Blondie?"

Zayn's mouth is curved upwards at the question and Niall waves behind him, at the half dozen other kids on the field (at the distinct lack of adults). "None of us give a shit. Guessing you don't play sports, then?"

Zayn eyes the ball's arc in the air with a smile, unconcerned as he asks, "And why do you say that?"

"Bad for the lungs. When do you start?"

"What?"

"School? You said you were new."

"Oh. Tomorrow."

"Cool." Niall adjusts his cap. "You should find me, I can show you around."

"Sounds like a proposition, Niall," Zayn says with another lazy finger roll up. 

"Maybe it is, Zayn," Niall says with another grin.

"Niall!"

Niall looks over his shoulder, and Zayn leans to the side - there's a guy in catcher gear, standing over home plate with his mask up and his arms held out to the side.

"What, Lou!" Niall yells, and the guy, Lou, whatever, waves his arms.

"Any fucking day now, Sunshine! That's the only ball Liam hasn't sent into someone's yard yet!"

"Louis, I said I was sorry!" someone - Liam, Zayn guesses - says from the pitcher's mound.

"You're like that kid from _The Sandlot_ , except a better hitter," Louis snaps, and a boy in right field with a mass of curly hair barely contained under a baseball cap calls out, "You're _killin'_ me, Payne!"

Liam throws his mitt in the direction of the right fielder and he sounds close to laughing as he says, "Shut up, Harry, you were making grass angels like twenty minutes ago!"

Niall snorts and Louis waves his arm again.

"Ball! C'mon, Ni, we’ve still gotta work on sacrifice bunts before it gets dark."

Niall shakes his head, still grinning, and holds his glove out to Zayn. "Can I have the ball now? Rather not have Louis spend the whole drive back to his lecturing me about flirting with mysterious new kids."

"Oh, so it _was_ a proposition," Zayn says. Niall snorts. "I'm not really that mysterious."

"Jesus Christ, by the time we can play again, I'll have _graduated_!" Louis shouts. Niall rolls his eyes, but opens and closes the glove in his hand.

Zayn tosses the ball into the air one last time, catches it, and lifts a brow. "Duck," he suggests, waving his left hand down, and Niall smiles faintly in bemusement, but does as he's told.

Zayn picks at the red stitching of the ball with a blunt fingernail once more, and then gets into his stance. He can see the catcher watching him, arms crossed impatiently, mitt dangling off one hand. And it's harder to go through his wind up while wearing his skinniest jeans tucked into Doc Martens but Zayn smiles regardless, adjusts his shoulders and swings his arms overhead, hikes his left knee before he drops it and extends his right arm over in a flash. His right leg swings out behind him from the momentum as the ball whips towards home plate, aimed high.

It’s too far - from beyond center field, farther than he’s used to throwing, obviously - and the ball veers a bit once it passes over second, but Liam kicks off the side of the pitcher’s mound and catches it easily. The half-dozen kids on the field are all looking towards center, at Zayn. Louis lets his catcher's mitt fall to the dirt.

The curly-haired kid in right field says loudly, "Holy shit, is he part _cyborg_?"

Niall stands from his crouch slowly, and he scratches at the dirty blond hair under his cap as he smiles. "Not mysterious." He raises an eyebrow, and glances towards where Louis' now flopped down on the ground over home plate. "Got a fucking _cannon_ for an arm, though."

"Pretty good with my hands in general," Zayn tells him.

Niall throws his head back and laughs as he steps away from the fence. "Find me, yeah? Tomorrow? We’re here after school for -"

"Tryouts," Zayn finishes. "Yeah, I know."

Niall's still stepping back, and he cocks his head. "You know?"

"Yeah." Zayn lifts a hand, waves once before he turns and calls over his shoulder with a grin:

"I'm gonna be your new pitcher."

*

As it happens, Zayn doesn't have to wait until after school the next day to see Niall again. He’s in the first lunch period of the day, sliding his styrofoam tray along the elongated countertop that leads to the cashier at the end, when he feels someone clap him on the shoulder. Zayn glances up from his wilted salad and chocolate milk, sees a flash of clear braces and a smattering of freckles; he blinks, and Niall comes into view.

(His hand drags down over Zayn's back as he does this, and Zayn tries not to read into it too much.)

"I found you." Niall grins, and the line moves forward; Zayn slides his tray along.

"You were looking for me?"

"Nah - well, sorta." Niall falls into step beside him. "Didn't know your schedule, obviously. Figured I'd just keep an eye out for the cute kid in combat boots."

"Cute?"

Zayn can't remember the last time someone called him cute. Probably before his voice dropped. He pushes the tray forward again, watches a piece of wilted lettuce fall to the floor.

"There's children present, I'm keeping it clean," Niall tells him, and Zayn laughs and alright.

Maybe he can read into it a little.

"Hey, the food in this place is fucking awful, but seniors can leave campus and we got McDonald's, if you want?"

"Wouldn't wanna impose."

"It's fast food, not a three course meal " Niall laughs, and tugs on the sleeve of Zayn's jacket. "C'mon."

Zayn gives his lunch one more appraising look, and decides anything else sounds way more appetizing right now. "Don't eat burgers, but you got any of those little apple pies?"

Niall positively _beams_. "You can have one of mine."

He tugs on Zayn's sleeve again, and Zayn hands his tray over the glass of the counter, smiling apologetically at the lunch lady who takes it, before he follows Niall across the room to a corner table that's overflowing with kids. Someone vacates the last seat so Niall can drop down, and he has just enough space to scoot along the bench for Zayn to slide in next to him at the edge. Niall digs into a pile of burgers in the center of the table and a balled up napkin whips across it and there's a cacophony of voices all trying to be heard but a few of the boys nearest him - the ones he saw yesterday - all seem to be waiting expectantly. Zayn waves once.

"Hey." Niall already has a mouthful of food and he waves a hand at Zayn. "Zayn, everyone; everyone, Zayn. He's new."

"Is this the guy from yesterday?" That catcher - Louis - asks. "The one who threw from behind center?"

Niall nods, and the curly-haired kid who was in right field lets out an impressed whistle. "I'm Harry - you're trying out today, right?" he asks Zayn, who shrugs.

"That's the plan." He eyes the one who was on the mound yesterday, squares his shoulders. "You their starter?"

"Liam," he supplies helpfully, "and Jesus, no, I wouldn't have a chance against you with that arm. I'm usually on first. Our pitcher - well, our ace, anyway - graduated last year. You came right on time." 

"Looks like it. How did you all end up in the same lunch period?" he asks, and Niall shrugs.

"Tried it once at different times last year, it was awful. Now we just shuffle our schedules around at the start of every semester."

Zayn mouth twitches into a smile. “What, and that works?” 

“We’ve perfected the art of looking tragic," Liam explains. "The ladies in the guidance office try not to separate us, if they can help it. But look at you,” he’s all smiles. “You got into our lunch period without even trying. Guess that means you’re meant to be on the team.”

"I think they just did it this year because I'm a senior and it means I can bring them food," Louis says. "Might just flunk on purpose so I have to repeat, how else will I be able to buy them things so they'll appreciate me."

"You're a senior - ?" Zayn starts, but Liam talks over him, sighing disapprovingly:

"Lou, don't joke, you're graduating on time and going to school, you know your mom will -"

"Okay, one," Louis says, looking at Liam, "shut up, it's too early in the day to talk about life after graduation. And two, I refuse to take advice from someone who still wears superhero pajamas with the feet attached."

"I haven't worn those in months," Liam says primly.

"He wears them _all the time_ ," Harry laments, head down on the table, and Niall laughs, nudges Zayn's shoulder to grab his attention, says,

"What're you doing later? After tryouts, I mean. You should come with us to Liam's."

" _Ooh_ ," Louis says, and Zayn somehow knows without even looking that he's smiling wickedly. "Yeah, Zayn, you should _come_ with Niall. To Liam's, I mean."

"Hey, Lou," Niall doesn't turn away from Zayn, "have you come _anywhere_ lately that isn’t into your right fucking hand - " He jumps again and narrows his eyes. "- _stop kicking me_."

"Sorry," Louis says sweetly, and Liam leans over to collect their wrappers.

"Ignore them - you should come. We like new people."

Niall slides an apple pie out of its box; he breaks off a piece and hands it to Zayn, who knocks his knee against Niall's in thanks as he takes it and conveniently forgets to shift his leg back. Zayn forces himself resist peeking when Niall reaches down to pat Zayn's knee and squeeze it gently, but he figures the grin on his face gives him away.

"I can't today," he says, apologetic. "Older sister is picking me up after tryouts. Should be free next time, though."

"Yeah, definitely," Niall smiles around a mouthful of apple filling. Zayn tries to find it gross and fails miserably. "Like I told you yesterday, I can show you around."

"I wandered around a bit all weekend after we settled in -"

"Oh, he means indoor settings," Louis interrupts, and Liam leans forward:

"Darker. More intimate."

"Sexier," Harry nods.

Niall wipes his fingers on his jeans and purses his lips with a kissed aimed at his friends.

"Fuck all of you."

"Oh, is this an orgy now instead of you just jumping on the new guy's dick," Louis drawls, and Liam chokes on his drink and spits up onto the table, hides a laugh behind his hand while Harry nudges napkins his way.

Niall cackles, even when his cheeks go beet-red.

Zayn's fairly fucking certain this is going to be the start of something great.

*

Zayn changes into his tryout gear immediately after the last bell, purposefully waits until the dugouts and bleachers are almost filled with other students before he steps out onto the field. They start off with basic skills: infielding and batting, rotation of positions, and by the time Doniya shows up with their younger sisters in tow, bundled up for the weather, the coach - Higgins - has called for all the new pitchers to start warming up.

Zayn's last - a conscious decision, on Higgins' part, since Zayn knows he’s already as good as in. He’d scouted Zayn when he found out Zayn was moving into the state; hell, he's the reason they even settled in this school district, because the only thing better than a nationally ranked high school pitcher is a nationally ranked pitcher on a team with half a dozen state titles already under its belt.

When Zayn's name gets called, he steps out of the dugout, finds his sisters in the bleachers in a flash - Doniya shoots him a thumbs up - and he can feel the eyes on him, hear a few of the kids trying out already murmuring from the dugout. He kicks at the pitcher’s plate when he gets there, his cleat bouncing off the rubber slab, and adjusts the cap on his head. He rests his glove against his hip, and cocks his head at their coach, waiting for instruction.

Higgins waves a hand towards him in an _after you_ gesture. “What d’you got for me, Malik?”

Zayn’s mouth quirks up on one end. “What do you want?”

Louis laughs from home plate where he's pulling his mask on and kicking out his legs before dropping into a squat. “Cocky,” he says, voice slightly muffled. “I like it.”

Higgins looks like he’d be smiling, if he were the type of person to smile. “What’s your weakest pitch?”

“Curve.”

Higgins scoffs. “Shouldn’t be throwing curves that much anyway, son.”

Zayn shrugs. “I’ve always had decent ball control.”

"Yeah, I _bet_ ,” Harry calls from right. Liam stands on first and covers his face with his glove, shaking his head.

“Niall, did you hear -“

“Shut _up_ , Lou,” Niall laughs from behind Zayn, on short.

Higgins points at him. “I don’t want you throwing curves unless I say so, you hear me? Let’s not overuse it and tire your arm out faster.”

“Sure,” Zayn nods. “But if you don’t want to see my curve, then I don’t have a weak pitch.”

Louis promptly sits down in the dirt and lifts his mask up. “God, can we keep him, Coach? This confidence is refreshing.”

“Ehh, calm down, Tomlinson,” he waves a lazy hand Louis' way. To Zayn, he says, “How’s your fastball?”

Higgins has never seen it in action before. Zayn smiles again. “It’s decent.”

“Let’s see it.”

Zayn nods shortly, turns away to get into his stance. Louis has his mask back down, and Zayn can tell he isn’t smiling anymore as he holds his mitt up.

“Four-seam?” Zayn asks, glancing at Higgins, who nods back.

Zayn drops his glove to his chest, runs his index finger down the stitching of the ball before adjusting his grip. He winds up, gives it all he’s got; it hits Louis’ mitt dead center with a satisfying thump and he closes around it and immediately drops his hand.

“Ah, fuck,” he's pulling his mitt off and shaking his hand out. “Jesus Christ, Malik. _It’s decent_.”

Louis’ mocking him, but he's grinning too and sounds vaguely impressed. Zayn smiles wide and peeks at Higgins, who has his cap pulled low and his hand covering his mouth. He rubs his chin, nods a little and says, “Good.”

Zayn tries not to let his shoulders slump at the lack of reaction. He’s thrown a fastball at 99 before - it’s a great pitch for a seventeen year old whose arm isn’t completely useless from overzealous Little League managers bent on fucking up the still-growing body of a kid just for a plastic trophy at summer's end.

“Don’t worry." It’s Niall’s voice from short, calming, and Zayn turns to glance at him. “'Good' is Coach-speak for ‘I’m so impressed I forgot how to use words properly.’ He said the same thing last year when me, Stan and Liam managed to turn a triple play.”

He gives Zayn an encouraging thumbs up, lowers his voice to add, “And Lou never drops his mitt, he's a fucking beast behind the plate.”

“Yeah?” Zayn murmurs back to him, and Niall tips his cap and scrunches his nose up. Zayn takes that as a confirmation.

“Malik!” Paul barks, and Zayn turns quick.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“Tell me you’ve got a change up.”

Zayn half-smiles, crooked and confident.

“I’m ranked for a reason, Coach.”

*

He can tell his sisters are starting to get bored sitting in the bleachers for so long; tryouts are over but the kids who already know they're in - last year's starters, the lucky few - are fucking around on the field still in a quick pick up game before the sun sets, and Zayn wants to see a few of their players. Safaa's asleep, bundled up and head pillowed in Waliyha's lap, and Doniya just visibly sighs and shakes her head when Zayn mouths _ten more minutes_ at her.

When he gets back to the dugout to check his phone and pull on a hoodie, he's got a text from Doniya waiting for him:

 **From: Doniya**  
Gonna wait in the car

 **From: Zayn**  
I just wanna see a little more of their starting pitcher from last yr and then we can go, ten minutes I swear

 **From: Doniya**  
TEN MINUTES or I start telling the blond one u keep staring at embarrassing baby Zayn stories :)

Zayn rolls his eyes, stuffs his phone into the pocket of his hoodie, and drags himself up out of the dugout to stand next to Liam and watch Niall just as he steps up to the plate. He stands in the right side batter’s box and Zayn’s brows jump.

“Wait, he was throwing right earlier, wasn’t he? Is he a switch hitter?”

Liam nods. “Left's still his dominant, but yeah. Pride and joy of the team - ambidextrous shortstop who’s quick on his feet.”

“Cool,” Zayn says, and a grin pulls at his mouth when Niall taps the end of the bat to his cleats, lines up and stands with his legs shoulder-width apart. He bends his knees just slightly, but relaxes and drops the bat onto his left shoulder for a moment. He jerks his chin at the pitcher - Ed, Higgins had said earlier - and then points to left field.

Ed laughs good-naturedly. “Fuck you, Horan. I’d love to see you call it.”

“Scared, sweetheart?” Niall practically sing-songs the question, and then drops into his stance again, grips the bat with enough force that Zayn can see the muscles in his forearms clench.

Ed bends forward, arm folded over his thigh. Louis signals him from his place at home, and Ed shakes his head, shakes it again, and then nods. He’s not grinning anymore as he straightens, drops his mitt close to his chest. He winds up, throws a slider to the outside corner.

It’s a good pitch.

Niall hits a line drive to left field, anyway.

The ball smacks against the fence and leaves their outfielder scrambling, and by the time the ball is back infield and under control, Niall’s on second with his hands on his hips, breathing hard and aiming a shit-eating grin at Ed. 

He looks like a menace. 

Zayn’s a little bit in love. 

*

"Hey! Hey, Zayn, hold up!"

Zayn's almost at Doniya's car when he glances over his shoulder; Niall's jogging towards him with a grin while Louis, Liam and Harry shamelessly look on from the other end of the parking lot in front of a beat up sedan.

"Hey," Niall says again, stumbling to a stop and tucking his hands under his armpits. "Fuck, it's cold - um, so - look, do you have a boyfriend back home? Girlfriend?" He raises an eyebrow. "Anyone even vaguely significant other-y at all?"

Zayn can't stop the smile that spreads across his face, and he looks down at his cleats. "No boyfriend, no." His gaze flicks up. "You have anyone here?"

Niall grins, shakes his head slowly. "Not yet."

Someone whistles sharply from across the lot, and when Niall and Zayn look, Liam and Harry are standing in front of the car clutching each other, staring wide-eyed and lovestruck, Harry's mouth puckered up and mashed against Liam's cheek; Louis’ sitting cross-legged on the hood, eyes closed, hands raised in prayer.

"Idiots." Niall says this with a sort of well-worn fondness, and scratches at his chin, rocks back on his heels. "Anyway, you're single. I'm single. This is an amazing coincidence. We should hang out sometime and talk about how coincidental it is."

Zayn laughs. "Yeah, we should -"

Doniya honks the horn, long and loud, for a solid fifteen seconds - Zayn knows, because every second it keeps going makes him wish a hole would open up underneath his feet and swallow him up. Niall tries very valiantly not to laugh, and when she finally lets up, Zayn stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets and juts his chin out.

"I, uh. Clearly have to go."

Niall nods, gives in and laughs, just a bit, still squinting into the sun. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow. You have my number, right?"

"Yep."

"Good. Use it, yeah?"

Zayn hops up on his toes and nods, and then shuffles in quick and tucks his fingers into one of Niall's hoodie pockets to jerk him closer. He kisses Niall’s cheek, drags his lips a little so he catches the corner of Niall's mouth when he pulls away.

"I definitely will," Zayn tells him with a not-quite-smile, still close.

Niall pushes a gentle hand against Zayn's stomach so he has to take a step back. He's grinning so wide his eyes have practically disappeared into laugh lines. "Go, your sister's gonna kill you."

Zayn shrugs happily and starts off towards the car again. "Worth it!" he calls, and Niall laughs brightly as Zayn ducks into the passenger side.

"Okay, seriously, who is that?" Doniya asks as soon as she pulls onto the street. Zayn looks out the window, watches Niall lift a hand goodbye.

"New friend,” he says.

She turns the corner and snorts. "A friend, or a _friend_ friend?"

Zayn just smiles.


	2. spring of junior year. zayn, 17; niall, 16.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make a date for Friday. Niall shows up with tulips. Zayn, with one hand on the doorframe and the other stuffed in his jean pocket, says, "Uh?"
> 
> "Relax, they're not for you." Niall smiles as Zayn steps aside to let him in, pulls one out from the bouquet to bop Zayn on the nose with it. He follows it with a kiss. "You can have one, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo. So again as a reminder, these are slice of life parts as opposed to actual plotted chapters. I'm trying to keep them close enough together that it doesn't seem so mishmash, so I hope it works.
> 
> A few notes: Louis is in 12th grade, Zayn in 11th, Liam and Niall in 10th, and Harry in 9th. As of Spring, this would make their ages 18, 17, 16 (x2), and 15, respectively. While there isn't any mention in this part, there will occasionally be scenes where they smoke and/or drink while under the legal age. Also, while there will be references to sex, it's not described/doesn't happen while anyone is underage (penetrative, anyway, and for the sake of familiarity, I'm using the age of consent where I live, which is 17). Think that's it!
> 
>  **SPORTS FACTZ:** So the likelihood of a freshman and/or sophomore being on Varsity and _actually playing_ in every game is not really a thing that happens unless they happen to be _really really really_ good (say, good enough to take the spot from a Varsity upperclassman) but for all intents and purposes lets say all these young'ins have a sizeable amount of talent between them.

Niall likes him.

Or, well. Zayn's pretty sure.

He just doesn't know why neither of them have done anything about it yet. There was this thing, at Louis' party, where they almost-kissed, but it's been weeks since then and Zayn has no idea what his next step will be. Niall makes him feel ten kinds of stupid most of the time, and it's like - Zayn knows how to talk to people he likes, alright, and he knows how to flirt, and how to drop his voice all low and inviting but with Niall it's different. Weird.

Niall will smile that crinkle-eyed smile at him, or he'll cheer Zayn on from short during a game with an easy confidence, or he'll -

Well.

Do what he's doing right now:

Niall's sitting on the diving board of Harry's heated indoor pool in garish trunks he could have only borrowed _from_ Harry - and Harry's recent growth spurt means the trunks are too big and sag so low on Niall's hips even that he's a half inch away from flashing - with a half-eaten burger in hand and his favorite snapback on (Jesus, Zayn knows he has a favorite _snapback_ ) and Zayn simultaneously feels something warm curl up his body from his toes _and_ like his heart is trying to crawl out of his mouth. Niall is just sitting there, laughing at Ed, Liam and Harry doing some kind of improvised water routine. He has bits of chewed up burger in his mouth and Zayn really, really, really just wants to -

"Jesus, Malik, be more obvious."

Louis plops down on the edge of the pool next to him. He's got sunglasses stolen from Liam atop his hair and he adds, "Why don't you just go over there and tell him to kiss you already?"

He tilts his head in Niall's direction. "Actually, maybe have him swallow first and brush his teeth. But then."

Zayn scratches idly at his chest and swings his legs in the water. "Do you think he likes me?"

"I think I'm not Niall and cannot accurately answer that question."

Louis pauses, and Zayn reaches out to nudge him in the shoulder. "But?"

"But he's sorta like - I don't know, there was this girl he kinda was thinking about pursuing before you came here but that's not happening anymore. You probably diverted his attention."

Zayn scoops up a handful of water and flings it in Louis' direction. "Is his attention easily diverted?"

"Mm." They watch Liam lift Harry in the air, and Harry says something airily that might be _I am a graceful swanlike boy_ which - and anyone who has seen Harry amble along like a colt while drunk can tell you - is just wrong. "About some things. Not people, usually. Niall's not - he's more - he's sort of a boyfriend type."

"Oh." 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him and Zayn sits forward and laughs, "No, I mean, like. Good. 'Cause I sort of am, too?"

Louis mutters teasingly, "You would think with the leather and the smoking you'd be a regular Kenickie."

"Hey," Zayn starts, wounded, "he and Rizzo got it right, in the end. And anyway, that's not a good comparison - should've just called him Sandy."

Louis folds his hands in his lap and grins at Zayn. "Niall's hardly shy enough for a Sandy comparison. And he swears too much. _And_ his hair's actually dark. He just dyes it blond."

"Learn something new every day," Zayn muses, and Louis stands and shakes the water off his legs.

"You want my advice?"

"No," Zayn says with a smile. Louis flips him off.

"Tell him you're 'sort of the boyfriend type.' Because even if I'm not him and don't know for sure what's going on in that precious, sunshine-y head of his," he kicks Zayn's thigh lightly. "I do know that he's just as obvious about looking as you are."

"Y'think?"

Louis nods, and drops Liam’s sunglasses back on. "He keeps staring at your ass when you turn around -"

"I don't have an ass to stare at -"

"He was staring at the concave space where your ass should be, shut up, and I'm pretty sure I saw him lick his lips when you took your shirt off earlier. So, you know. At the very least, he'll be willing to give you one very sloppily enthusiastic blowjob in the dugout once everyone's gone home after practice ends."

Zayn presses a hand over his heart and sways. "Oh, a boy can dream."

"Well, it is Niall," Louis says thoughtfully. "He'd probably be like, 'thanks for letting me blow you, Zayn, I love you' and then cuddle you until the sun rises over the field."

"Stop, please, the romance is killing me," Zayn deadpans as he closes his eyes, and he flops back onto the floor, arms spread out.

He cracks open an eye, watches Louis walk away and calls out, "Thanks."

Louis turns on heel, keeps walking backwards with a smile on his face. "Yeah, well, you're new and everything, but you know. We're here for each other -"

"Like womp bop a looma a womp bam boom?" Zayn asks, straight-faced, and Louis smiles so wide his sunglasses knock up a bit.

"Yeah," he says quietly, nodding once. "Exactly."

*

They're midway through the season when Zayn gets beamed by a ball during a game. The batter hits a line drive straight back at him, only he’s not nearly quick enough to stop it - he tries, anyway, lifts his mitt up off instinct in an attempt to catch the ball hurtling towards him. He fails, and there’s a collective gasp from the bleachers, and then the sound of Harry, shouting his name from right field.

After that, everything goes dark.

*

When Zayn comes to, he’s on a gurney at the hospital and Niall’s holding his hand. He presses the heel of his free palm to his forehead, winces against the bright lights of the hallway as he sits up. “You’re awake,” Niall grins, squeezing his hand, and Zayn looks around.

“What happened?”

“Got beamed by a ball.” He can feels Niall’s fingers brush his temple, and he hisses when his head throbs. “Deflected off your glove mostly, so they think you’re alright. Lucky you. Your ma’s talking to the doctor, I think? You have to get an MRI and then you can go home. Routine stuff.”

“Oh.” Zayn squints. “Why are you here?”

“Ouch,” Niall says, and Zayn lets go of his hand to thump him on the chest.

“You know what I mean.”

Niall shrugs.

“Everyone wanted to come with - Louis nearly chewed coach’s ear off saying you need someone familiar to wake up next to - _what if he has memory loss, Coach, do you want that on your conscience_?” he says the last part in an eerily accurate imitation of Louis' raspy lilt, and Zayn laughs.

“So they sent you?”

Niall puffs out his chest. “Volunteered.”

“How _Hunger Games_ of you,” Zayn tells him, and Niall brushes his knuckles along Zayn’s jaw.

“Yeah, well. I was worried.”

Zayn catches his hand again. Niall’s still smiling at him, but he’s got this muted sort of concern in his eyes, too, and Zayn feels a little reckless when he says, “Keep me company when I get home?”

And it’s only then that he remembers they’re both still in their uniforms - Zayn’s significantly dirtier than Niall’s, given that he’d fallen on the mound - and he's hasty to add, “I mean, like. You can take a shower and borrow some sweats or something. If you don’t think that’s - actually, I’ll just have my mom drop you off at your house, nevermind, that’s not -” 

“You’re so weird,” Niall says with a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

He leans forward, folds his forearms over on the gurney so he can plop his chin on Zayn’s shoulder. He’s got bubblegum breath and he says, “You have a concussion. Someone’s gotta keep you up, right?”

*

Zayn runs to his room when they get back to his, even though it makes his head pound a little. By the time Niall strolls over to his doorway and before he can even properly step in, Zayn’s shoving a pair of sweats and a white tee into his hands. Niall doesn't make note of the rush, just follows Zayn out.

“This is - uh. Bathroom,” Zayn says once he opens the door and Niall steps inside to look around.

“Yeah, the toilet tipped me off,” he replies.

“There’s clean towels on the shelf there.”

”Thanks. You got body wash I can use? I wouldn’t ask, but y’know,” he picks at the dirt under his fingernails. “Baseball’s messy.”

“Yeah, it’s,” Zayn steps forward, hand pointing, but Niall doesn’t move to give him space, so Zayn’s sort of just - staring at Niall’s neck and _why is his face so hot_.

“Um, it’s the, uh, the blue thing. Bottle. It’s the blue bottle.” For some reason, he feels compelled to add: “It’s supposed to smell like rain.”

Niall coughs out a laugh into his hand. “Cool?”

“I got hit in the head earlier,” Zayn reminds him, and Niall does outright laugh, then.

“I remember. Don’t fall asleep while I’m in there, alright? I’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Zayn says. He blinks, and Niall still looks amused and jerks his thumb at the tub.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna… shower now, so.” He lifts a brow. “Unless you want to join me? Save the environment. Or the ocean.”

“Sea anemones,” Zayn says, and Niall knits his brows together.

“What?”

“I - can’t talk, my foot’s in my mouth,” Zayn tells him and when Niall laughs, Zayn thinks this is why he needs to clean up - he needs an immediate distraction. He feels sort of frazzled around Niall, like _all the time_ , and he’s pretty sure it’s not because he got whacked in the head with a baseball earlier. He'd meant to go for it after Louis' talk, really he had, only - well, he'd chickened out, and now they’ve just been circling each other for weeks, but Niall went with him to the hospital, and he was holding Zayn’s hand, and he called Zayn cute once, didn’t he?

“Zayn, you’re drifting off, man, can you like - go talk to your mom while I’m in here? I’m afraid you’re gonna drop to the ground any second.”

Zayn blinks again. "Sorry, I think, just. Headache. Yeah, I’ll make us sandwiches.”

“I’ll be right out,” Niall says again, and Zayn nods, steps back ‘til he’s on the other side of the doorway. He turns on heel, hears the faint sound of uniform buttons being popped open and, oh, right, people tend to be naked when they bathe.

The faucet creaks and the shower starts to run; Niall’s singing softly - Zayn hears _I got a real pretty, pretty little thing that’s waitin’ for me_ and he winces, and holds a hand to his head.

He might be a bit fucked.

*

Zayn manages to kick all the messy clothes lying on his floor into his closet, grab the garbage and stuff it into a bag to throw outside, collect the stacks of comic books he has all around the room and sort them into a pile he’ll organize later just in time for his mother to come up with sandwiches. He leaves the plate on his desk for Niall - he can’t really eat anything right now - and is grabbing stuff to change into when there’s a knock on his doorframe.

It’s Niall, with wet hair and grey sweats that are, Zayn thinks, sitting unfairly low on his hips. He looks around says, “Nice room,” and Zayn shoves the plate at him and heads to the bathroom quick, at least finding comfort in the fact that he knows Niall’s not actually the type of person to go through someone else’s things.

When Zayn gets out of the shower and back to his room, the plate is back on the desk and full of nothing but crumbs. Niall’s lying on his bed watching _Clueless -_ he’s got his feet crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head, t-shirt is riding up on his stomach, and he glances over when Zayn shuts the door, props himself up on his elbows.

“Hey.” He’s smiling - Zayn’s not sure he ever really stops, to be honest - and tilts his head to the side invitingly. “C’mere, _Clueless_ is on - it’s at the part where Tai tells Cher she’s a virgin who can’t drive.”

Zayn says, “I don’t think me being on a bed is going to keep me awake,” but he heads over anyway, crawls on and he prefers lying by the wall so he hooks a leg over, and then an arm, and then realizes he’s effectively trapped Niall beneath him.

Niall casts an obvious look down between them. “Depends on what you’re doing.”

“Do you even know how to deal with concussed people,” Zayn asks, and Niall scoffs and shifts his legs.

“That was way harsh, Tai,” he says, and his hand lifts to slide lazily along Zayn’s forearm. “I know lots of things about all _types_ of heads.”

“I,” Zayn hesitates, and then climbs the rest of the way over. Niall holds out an arm and Zayn thinks fuck it and cuddles in close with his head tucked under Niall’s chin. “I’m going to fall asleep.”

“I promise you,” Niall says as his fingertips drift along Zayn’s back, “that is not going to happen.”

Zayn tilts his head along the pillow then, and in the same breath Niall looks down at him, and if he’d just angle his head a fraction of an inch towards their lips would be touching. Niall laughs on an exhale and turns fully, mouth brushing against the corner of Zayn’s. “So, I sort of have ulterior motives for agreeing to come here - mostly, I've really wanted to kiss you for weeks now.”

“Go for it,” Zayn says through a smile.

“Yeah, but, I like - I like when everyone’s on the same page -”

“If you think I won’t kiss you back, you haven’t been paying attention -”

More hushed laughing. “No, dork, I mean. I’m telling you that I wanna kiss you because I like you?”

“That’s good,” Zayn tells him, and he babbles on: “I mean, I like you, too, so. That’s really good. We should go on a date.”

“Sure,” Niall agrees. “But I want to kiss you first.”

“I can say ‘yes’ in three languages, if you want.”

Niall’s puffs a breath of laughter against Zayn’s mouth and Zayn slots a leg in between Niall’s, brushes his fingers up the front of Niall’s shirt and over the trail of hair on his stomach. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Dunno,” Niall says, impatient, almost, and sneaks a hand under Zayn’s sweats and the boxers he’s wearing, palms the bare skin of his hip. “But if I don’t kiss you in the next like, two seconds, I’m probably going to do something drastic like cry -"

He cuts himself off, cranes his neck for a moment to look at Zayn properly. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Zayn says, and Niall’s mouth quirks up at one side.

“I can’t kiss a concussed person, what if you don’t remember?”

“Oh, I’ll remember.”

“Indulge me.”

“Zayn Malik. Seventeen. I play baseball for my high school, and the guy I like is being both stupidly thoughtful and really fucking frustrating and Jesus, Horan, can you _just_ \- “

Niall laughs, and swoops in for a kiss.

*

Niall's waiting for him by his locker at school the next Monday with a grin and a bundle of clothing. Zayn ducks his head when he gets close, smiles down at the combination lock as he turns it. "Good morning."

" _Fantastic_ morning," Niall corrects. He holds out the bundle when Zayn gets his locker open. "Brought the clothes you let me borrow Saturday. Washed and dried."

Zayn stuffs them onto the minuscule top shelf. "You didn't have to do that, they're just extra clothes I sleep in." He slides his backpack around to take out a few textbooks he doesn't need until the second half of the day. He adds, "So, I'm not concussed anymore, no thanks to you."

"Whatever, I did my job. Kept you awake, didn't I?"

Niall's still smiling, bright and happy, and Zayn licks his lips, feels his mouth pull into a grin as he leans forward to kiss Niall quick. It's the first time since Niall left his house Saturday night, and it's more real, now that they're actually standing here. Not a fluke or a one time thing, and Zayn savors the moment, the two of them standing close in a crowded hall filled with chattering classmates.

Zayn turns his head a bit, brushes his nose against Niall's, and Niall laughs against his mouth. "Besides," he says before kissing Zayn once more and shifting away. "I wanted to bring the clothes back. Gave me an excuse to meet you here in the morning. Want me to carry your books?"

Zayn snorts and shuts his locker.

"Um. No, that's what my bookbag is for. Are you going to offer to pin me next?" Zayn presses his fingers down against the strap of Niall's own bookbag as they walk down the hall and exaggeratedly flutters his eyelashes. "Give me your letterman jacket and ask if I wanna go steady?"

Niall shakes his head, silent and smiling, and lazily offers up a middle finger in response without looking at Zayn. Zayn reaches for the offending hand, drops it between them, linked together with his, and this is nice. This is dating. Or, well. It’s a hook up with a potential for more. Either way, it's a relief not to dance around each other anymore, a relief to look at Niall and think, _I like him_ , and know that Niall feels the same way. The guys are gonna be so -

Oh.

"Shit," Zayn says, and there's no real edge to it just a hint of surprise, "did you tell the guys about Saturday?"

Niall shakes his head. "Nope - did you?"

Zayn shakes his head; Niall hums amusedly. "Lunch should be interesting."

"We should make an entrance."

Niall gives this a considering thought. "Maybe a musical number. Lou does like theatrics." He looks at Zayn.

"Can you tap dance?"

"No."

Niall rolls his eyes. "Well, can you learn _how_ by like, fifth period?" He lets go of Zayn's hand to crook an arm around his neck instead. "Get it together, Malik."

"I have Drawing fourth period, I can make a banner," Zayn says, and Niall smacks a kiss to his temple.

"There's the spirit."

*

Zayn’s got his glove folded against his hip during practice the week after, watching Louis as he signals off pitches, when he hears Niall singsong softly from short, “ _Pit-cher’s gotta niiice ass_.”

Zayn snorts, and glances over his shoulder. Niall’s in a slight crouch, stance ready in case of a hit. He winks at Zayn.

“Horan!” Higgins barks, and Niall laughs and straightens up for a moment.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“If you can’t control yourself around your boyfriend, I’m sure there’s a willing freshman who can take your spot.”

“Sorry,” Niall says, and doesn’t sound sorry at all. Zayn’s just about to focus in again when Niall says louder: “Actually, Coach?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t asked him out properly yet.”

“Well.” Higgins seems at a loss. Louis lifts up his mask from home, shouts, “Ask him now!”

Niall shakes his head. “Public proposals are terrible.”

“Um,” Zayn looks over his shoulder again, cleats shuffling in the dirt. “They’re only really terrible unless you’re absolutely one hundred percent sure the person wants to say yes.”

“Hm.” Niall grins, and the sun shines down on him. “Do you want to say yes?”

“Are they getting married?” Harry shouts from right field, and Liam covers his face with his mitt.

“Zayn hasn’t even agreed to _dating_ yet.”

“Niall hasn’t even asked yet,” Zayn points out.

“Fine.” Niall starts to crouch even more and Zayn takes a step off the mound, flustered.

“Jesus Christ, Horan, if you get down on one knee I’m throwing my glove at you.”

Niall cackles and then bites his lip as he shrugs. “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

“What’d he say?” Harry yells, and Liam yells back, “Think it was _wangoballwime_!”

Louis topples over into the dirt as he laughs, and Zayn grins too wide and figures he looks like a dork, but. “Yeah,” he says. “Love to.”

“Cool.” Niall gets into his stance again, nods towards home. “Now strike Stan out so practice can end; I wanna kiss you.”

“Oh.” Zayn turns back on the mound and adjusts his cap. “Okay, then.”

“Alright, Coach, we’re good,” Niall calls out. Then: “Maybe give us directions to the nearest hotel so we can celebrate later, though.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Higgins sighs. He rubs at his temples. “Let’s get back to practice.”

*

Zayn strikes Stan out in three.

The players start to chatter as they head towards home for a last minute pep talk from Higgins, but Niall walks directly over to the mound instead, grabs Zayn by the nape of his neck, free arm winding around his waist to pull him in. Niall kisses him, digs his fingers into Zayn’s side, and Zayn hooks an arm around his neck, pecks him on the lips once more before they separate.

He’s smiling when he says, “Pretty good incentive to strike someone out.”

Niall laughs, and the brim of his cap knocks against Zayn’s temple.

He says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

*

They make a date for the next Friday.

Niall shows up with tulips. 

Zayn, with one hand on the doorframe and the other stuffed in his jean pocket, says, "Uh?"

"Relax, they're not for you." Niall smiles as Zayn steps aside to let him in, pulls one out from the bouquet to bop Zayn on the nose with it. He follows it with a kiss. "You can have one, though."

Zayn takes the flower and closes the door. "I'm confused."

Niall laughs and makes his way to the dining room, where Zayn's sisters are setting the table for dinner. (Zayn usually does it, but he has a date tonight, he's exempt, and _oh God Niall’s walking right up to his mother_.)

“Horan -”

“Shhh,” he says to Zayn, and then gives her a chirpy, “Hi! Zayn said you loved tulips, once. Didn't say what color, but I thought the yellow ones were nice. I was going to bring your husband something too, but I’ll wait for the next time."

He hands over the bouquet, and she takes it from him with careful hands, glancing slowly from Zayn to Niall before she smiles. "Nice to see you again, Niall."

"You, too, Mrs. Malik. I wanted to introduce myself properly since I'm gonna be over a lot more now."

"Oh?" She seems amused now. "Are you?"

"Well," Niall knocks his snapback up to scratch at his hair. "I hope." He glances at Zayn. "Yeah?"

"I - _yes_ ," Zayn says with an affectionate sort of exasperation, smiling, and Niall’s entire face brightens in response.

"Right. Should we go? Don’t wanna miss the movie.”

Zayn nods, and after his mom promises to put the flowers in water, Niall hugs her goodbye and makes his way to Zayn, who would like to get out of his house before he melts into the floor from embarrassment, thank you. He opens the front door, swings his arm behind him to grab Niall’s hand, and his mom shouts, “Be _safe_!” as they make their way down the steps.

Zayn pulls a face; Niall laughs and says, “I like her,” and “we’re watching that shitty found footage ghost movie."

"That released months ago,” Zayn reminds him. “And we saw that the day it came out with Harry, Lou, and Liam."

"I know." Niall drops his hand to make his way to the driver's side of his car and climbs in. "I figured it'd be better to pick something familiar so we wouldn't lose the plot when we're busy doing, y'know." He waggles his eyebrows at Zayn, who's buckling in his seatbelt. "Other stuff."

Zayn slides into his seat with a laugh. "I hope the other stuff involves mouths."

Niall shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking spot. His nose scrunches up. "Might even involve hands, if you buy me popcorn."

"Hm." Zayn leans as far as the seatbelt will let him, and Niall meets him halfway to kiss him quickly, eyes glancing peripherally at the street. "What if I got extra butter?"

Niall kisses him again and grins as he sits back in his seat properly. "Getting arrested for indecent exposure was not really in the plan tonight, but I do have something similar on my bucket list."

"Namely?"

"It'll only work if the theatre is empty and the armrests go all the way up." Niall lifts a brow. " _Which they do_.”

Zayn laughs again. 

"This is sounding less like your bucket list and more like a really nice dream I had once," he says.

He props his boots up on the dash and lolls his head against the headrest to watch Niall squint up at a street sign. He smiles faintly, and thinks, _This is my boyfriend._

(It's a good thought.

He hopes it lasts.)


	3. senior year. zayn, 18; niall, 17.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall's smile disappears at that, but there's no unpleasant twist to his mouth, only a quiet sort of fondness that's muted in this night, in this car. Something clicks then and Zayn knows this is a moment - one of those things he's going to recall when he's however old, where the details never change: where all he'll remember is Niall, exactly like this, soft around the mouth, his hand curled in Zayn's like it doesn't belong anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get to the the explanation portion of this which AS U CAN SEE IS A RIDICULOUS LENGTH, I just want to remind y'all that this isn't going to flow in a way it would if it were complete. I've had about 60k of this verse written for... maybe a year or two? But at some point it turned less into a fic I wanted to finish and more friends going "but what if x happened" and me going "HAHA YEAH LET ME WRITE IT". Think there might be one or two more high school ~slices of life~, after that it'll head onto college, and then adulthood. Yaaay adulthood?
> 
> Ready for some **SPORTZ FACTZ** ***??? (I'm going by IHSA rules with all of this btw) High school baseball teams that go on to win their regional division will then go on to sectionals, and then super sectionals, and then the state championship. So. There's that. As for the presumed gibberish Jon and Zayn talk about in the latter part of this bit, LOOK, EVEN MORE FACTS: 
> 
> So Major League Baseball drafting doesn't quite work the same way as, say, basketball or football. A kid can get drafted and signed right out of high school (i.e., Zayn in this fic) but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll be on the starting roster for a major league team. Instead, if they sign to a club (aka baseball team), they may play in that club's affiliated farm system(s) in the minor leagues. 
> 
> A farm system (or farm team/farm club/player development program/blah blah blah) has a handful of classifications that range from Rookie (lowest) to Triple-A (highest) with a lot of subdivisions in between. High school kids will usually get placed at the Rookie level, for obvious reasons, but if they're good enough they will typically move up to at least Class-A level fairly quickly. I'll bring this up later but I think this is the most relevance it has for now. 
> 
> Essentially, the whole point of the minor leagues, barring those who are considered veterans/lifers (read: players who never move up to the majors due to a variety of circumstances) is to prepare younger players for major league competition. Draft rules are pretty clear cut, as far as eligibility goes: sometimes players can get drafted to a club right out of high school (again, like zayn). If a player DOES go to college, they can get drafted at any point in time if they are at a 2-year college OR if they are at a 4-year college and are at least a junior, or 21 years old (like... Niall...possibly).
> 
>   
> ***I am in no way an expert, this is mostly just garnered from growing up around sports ppl with a little fleshing out from my best friend Wikipedia  
> I know I just wrote like three billion words you probably didn't even make it to the end of this note if you did here's a spoiler: Zayn gets drafted and he and Niall stay in love forever and ever amen.

* * *

The team makes it to super sectionals before they're knocked out of the running; it's a disappointing end to an otherwise great season, but Zayn still has another year left, another year to get a championship under his belt. 

Summer comes and goes. Louis heads south for school. Liam gets a girlfriend, and then he doesn't. Harry's stepdad starts to teach him how to drive. And Zayn finds where he fits with them, with Niall.

He starts his senior year ranked fifth in the nation for top high school prospects, and a few weeks after Niall's birthday, Zayn is sitting in the passenger seat of Niall's car with the windows cracked. They're parked around the corner from his house, in between two overgrown elm trees, jackets off and tossed somewhere in the back.

Zayn's curfew is in ten minutes, but Niall's just asked him to homecoming, and Zayn figures if there's a reason for his parents to give him a little leeway, it's with this.

"C'mon," Niall says. "It can be fun, right?"

"I don't know." Zayn slumps in his seat, cants his head. "Don't really do dances."

"Don't do dances," Niall repeats with a smile. "Don't do Harry's pool parties. What do you do, Zayn Malik?"

Zayn shrugs. "Play baseball. Date you."

Niall's smile spreads wider; he turns in the driver's seat, leg folded up awkwardly, knee resting against the center console. Zayn shifts in his own seat, reaches out to grab Niall's hand.

"That day we met," he starts, absentmindedly playing with Niall's fingers, "when I tried to show off with the pitch from center -"

Niall cuts him off with a laugh. "Yeah?"

Zayn's head is bowed. He lifts a shoulder again. "I'd only been in town for a few days and didn't know anyone. Came here for baseball, but I was frustrated at having to start over. Like the idea of having to make new friends and stuff. Wasn't really looking forward to anything but making the team. But then I talked to you, and I was," he laughs, maybe a little self-deprecating. "I mean, you were cute, I was flirting with you, and um, you smiled at me and it was like - like - I don't know -"

He stops. Glances up and laughs, shakes his head. Niall has a slight curve to his lips and he says, "What?"

Zayn buries his face in the headrest for a moment, embarrassed. "I don't know, you smiled at me and - this place didn't seem so bad. Like, if there was a boy who could smile at me like that, then starting over here would be okay."

Niall's holding onto his hand now, fingers linked together. The radio is just loud enough over the hum of the car still running as they fall silent, and listen along, and Zayn gets distracted by Niall's calloused thumb running back and forth over the knuckle of his index finger. Belatedly, he remembers he has a point to make, and clears his throat:

"I just -" He pauses, and Niall glances at him. "I guess a part of me must of known that I was meeting one of my best friends. ...And, y'know -"

"One of your boyfriends?" Niall asks with a lifted brow and Zayn snorts and knocks him in the chest with their entwined hands.

They drop back into Niall's lap and Niall watches him with a soft smile and Zayn says, "Nah, it's just you."

Niall's smile disappears at that, but there's no unpleasant twist to his mouth, only a quiet sort of fondness that's muted in this night, in this car. Something clicks then and Zayn knows this is a moment - one of those things he's going to recall when he's however old, where the details never change: where all he'll remember is Niall, exactly like this, soft around the mouth, his hand curled in Zayn's like it doesn't belong anywhere else. 

He's going to remember the way it felt, heart suddenly hammering in his chest, threatening to spill over; the way it's never been like this with anyone else before Niall, sort of feels like it might not be like this after Niall, either.

The way Zayn doesn't want to know what anything _after_ Niall is like.

Maybe it's immature, or hormones, or what the fuck ever - just teenagers being teenagers. Maybe they’re just young and reckless and stupid. Maybe they won't even be together by the end of the year.

But maybe they will.

Zayn leans across the center console and kisses him, one hand still entwined with his and the other holding Niall steady by the nape of his neck. 

Niall gives a soft, laughing, "So is that a yes?" and Zayn nods, and kisses him harder, and he's glad Niall's there to swallow down the words Zayn can't bring himself to say just yet. 

*

Zayn spends his eighteenth birthday surrounded by his best friends and his family, and he blows out the candles of his cake with Niall's hand at the small of his back and a gleam in Louis' eye that says Zayn's face is going to get pushed in the moment the flames go out.

Liam dumps confetti on his head and Harry piggybacks him to the presents and Zayn swears his life has never been better.

*

"Malik!"

At Higgins' voice, Zayn jogs over to the entrance of the baseball field, tucks his glove under his arm. "Yeah, Coach?"

"This is Jon Shone," Higgins says, gesturing in turn to the man next to him, who nods at Zayn, and holds out hand him to shake.

He nods back. "Hi."

"You've got an _arm_ on you," Jon says.

"Thank you."

"You're a senior this year, aren't you?"

"Um," Zayn glances at Higgins. "Yeah."

"You been thinking about college ball?" Zayn gives a slight shrug - he's applied to places, heard back from nearly all of them - and gives a smile that Jon mirrors knowingly. "Maybe not, huh? Got your heart set on the farm system?"

"Yes, Sir," Zayn says, and Higgins claps him on the shoulder with a grin. 

Jon looks pleased. "That's great. Excellent." He crosses his arm then, and looks more serious for a moment. "Listen, I'm technically not supposed to do these things but I wanted to come and talk to you about possibly joining us down south this summer."

"Uh," Zayn starts, and licks his lips. "Like - to, to visit or -"

"To play."

Zayn looks at Higgins - he's got his arms crossed too, and his ballcap shading his eyes, but Zayn sees another smile building.

Zayn just shakes his head minutely because he doesn't understand, he doesn't, Shone can't seriously be saying what Zayn thinks he's saying. "Are you - um -"

"Obviously you'd be starting off at a Rookie level, given your age," Jon tilts his head, appraising Zayn. "Just to see how you fare. With your arm and ERA, I wouldn't doubt you moving up through Short Season, maybe even A-Advanced, within a year or so. Maybe Double-A after that. Like a Javy Báez sort of trajectory."

"Double-A," Zayn says faintly. "You want me to - to play minor league ball, right."

Jon jerks his chin at Zayn. "You check the high school standings lately?"

Zayn scratches under his cap and nods. "Yeah, I mean, I - last year I was in the top twenty. Um, I, I cracked top three at the start of the season but - I -"

"I like you," Jon interrupts. "I think you'd be great, really round out the new generation coming up from the minors. From what I've heard, you're a natural; your curveball can get a little wild sometimes, but that's something that can be worked on."

"A natural," Zayn blinks down at his cleats, at the dirt, thinks _born for it_ , and looks up. "I don't graduate until June? And I - um, I have to talk to my - my parents."

"I know it's a lot to think about," Jon pats his shoulder this time around. "I just wanted to let you know we were looking."

"Yeah," Zayn shakes his head quick, holds a hand out for him to shake again. "I mean, yeah, of course, thank you."

Jon give Zayn a card - a card with personal numbers written on it, a card that look official. After he heads out, Higgins places a heavy hand on Zayn's cap, wiggles his head back and forth. 

"How's that for good news, huh?" he says, and Zayn can't do much more than laugh in disbelief. Higgins catches his eyes, says seriously, "Give it some thought. If you want me to sit down with your family, I can go over everything later. But for now?"

"Yeah?"

"Enjoy this," Higgins says, and pats his head affectionately before walking towards the outfield and barking out an order to a kid in center.

Zayn's still staring down at the card when Harry glomps onto his back, rests his chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha got there?"

"Business card."

"Ooh, for business-y things? Lemme see."

Zayn passes it back to him just as Liam and Niall show up. Liam looks down at the card in Harry's hands, and Niall's sliding in close against Zayn's side for a peek, too.

"Is that the Minor League logo?" Harry says, and Liam says, "Holy shit, that's the Minor League logo."

"I think," Zayn starts, and Niall's mouth is already pulling into a smile, like he knows what Zayn's going to say, "I think I just got scouted. And not - not for a school."

Harry whoops and tightens the grip he has around Zayn's neck, knocking his baseball cap off in the process. "Okay, so if you go to the big leagues, can I have seats behind home plate?"

"I think Louis would probably argue seniority if he were here," Liam says, and Zayn doesn't replies with a nonchalant, "The guy mentioned Double-A." 

Harry laughs and smacks a kiss to his temple. "Amazing! Oh man, we have to celebrate when practice is over, it's the weekend. Liam, call Louis and tell him..."

He releases his hold on Zayn, hands the card back and slings an arm around Liam's shoulders to tug him in closer as they walk towards the dugout. Over his shoulder he calls, "My house after, okay? You can give each other celebratory blowjobs when you get home."

Zayn chokes out, " _Harry_ ," and Niall's responding cackle rings out loudly.

He pulls on Zayn's hands, tucks the card into his uniform pocket. He's grinning when he gets his arms around Zayn's waist. "Really?"

"Really," Zayn answers, hooking his arms around Niall's shoulders. 

"You're fucking amazing," Niall says, tucking his face into Zayn's neck. 

Zayn just hugs him back and smiles.

*

The day after the team wins their final regular season game, Zayn gets invited to the 2015 MLB draft. And when his father sits at the edge of his bed that night and asks what he wants to do, Zayn thinks about the four acceptance letters sitting on his desk to various schools around the country and says, “College can wait. ...I won’t always play like this.”

Yaser smiles, muted, like he knows Zayn’s future has always been set in stone. 

He pats Zayn’s knees and says, “I’ll have your mom look up plane tickets tomorrow,” and Zayn nods. He has to tell Louis. Has to call Liam and Harry and -

And Niall. 

“What time is it?”

Yaser lifts a brow. “Late.”

Zayn pulls his legs up to his chest and rests his chin on them. “Dad, I have to talk to Niall. I’ll be back in like an hour, I swear.”

“It’s a school night.”

“I know.”

Yaser takes a breath, and holds up a finger. “One hour, Zayn.”

Zayn’s out the door ten minutes later.

*

He climbs up the ivy-covered trellis that leads onto the roof of Niall’s and steps along the wall until he’s crouched in front of Niall’s bedroom window; he knocks, and it takes a few minutes before Niall appears in a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else, rubbing his eyes with a fist and yawning. He unlatches the window, pushes it up with his shoulder and leans over his desk so Zayn can pull him in for a kiss.

"Come outside," he says when he backs away, and Niall yawns again, nodding, and disappears from the window.

Zayn sits at the edge of the second floor roof and Niall drops onto it with a light thud a few moments later and they both freeze, in case someone wakes up; the house stays silent, and Niall sits down carefully, an unzipped hoodie on over his bare chest.

They settle against each other, and there’s a few moments where neither of them speaks, where the only thing Zayn hears is Niall’s breathing, the whirr of a car passing down the block.

Then Niall slides a hand into his, and Zayn says, “I’m going through the farm system. I’m gonna do it. It looks like the Cubs are gonna sign me and I can’t - I can’t go to college, it just. It feels like the wrong choice.”

Niall lets go, trails his fingertips down Zayn’s spine instead ‘til they come to a rest at the small of his back.

"Good," he tells Zayn, finally. "I’m glad."

"Are you?"

"Yeah," Niall kisses his cheek. "Seriously, I’m so proud of you."

Zayn closes his eyes. “I’d, um. I guess I’d move at the start of summer, once the draft is over. Right after graduation.”

"Where?"

He shakes his head, mouth litling at one end. “Not here. Rookie league, and if I look like I can hang, then, well."

"Hm," Niall’s tries to smile, but it softens when he says, "So - June? We still have a month left?"

"One more month," Zayn says, and then hesitates, leans heavily into Niall. “I get if when I leave, you wanna, like. Do your own thing. You still have senior year, and then you’ll be at college, you should have fun."

"I - what?"

"I don’t want to make you wait.”

Niall makes a face.

“ _What_?”

"I don’t want to make you wait for me," Zayn corrects.

There’s a lull, and then Niall laughs, so quietly it might as well be an exhale, and Zayn’s eyebrows furrow together. He goes to push at Niall’s chest, to scoot away so he can sit up and climb back down, but Niall flattens his palm against the small of Zayn’s back and tucks him in close, kicks him gently in the shin.

“God,” he says, soft and fond. “Is that why you’re knocking on my window like a stalker at one in the morning? What, you thought you’d tell me and I’d break up with you?”

Zayn just curls in more, knuckles brushing against Niall’s stomach, and Niall’s laugh trails off into a sigh; he dips his head down, whispers affectionately, “You’re such a weirdo,” and lifts Zayn’s chin to kiss him. They separate, and as Zayn swallows against the feeling of his throat closing up, Niall palms his jaw. “I don’t want to break up. Not now, or, y’know, anytime in the foreseeable future. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Zayn says thickly, and Niall frowns at him, stubborn.

“Yes, I do.”

“Niall, you’re _seventeen_ -”

“So? I can’t know what I want at seventeen? You’ve known you wanted to play baseball since you were _six_.”

"That’s different."

"How?"

Zayn wants to say it scares him, that Niall can leave him the way baseball _can’t_ , but what comes out instead is:

"You mean more to me than that."

Zayn ducks under Niall’s chin again, and Niall makes a noise in his throat, tells him: “Zayn, it’s _been_ you. You being a few hundred miles away isn’t going to suddenly change that so just. Stop freaking out.”

"Sorry," Zayn mumbles, but Niall smiles.

"S’ok. I know how you are." He knocks Zayn under the chin, kisses him quick before shaking his head. "Wait, that means you can’t play with us if we make it far enough this season, right?"

"No. Can’t play for another team once I’m signed." He smiles briefly, ruefully. "I already checked."

"Shit," Niall says, and grips the edge of the roof tightly, hefts himself backwards, turns so he’s sitting cross-legged, facing Zayn. "Um, so if you can’t finish out the season with us and you’ll barely be here for graduation, do you think… maybe…"

"What?"

Niall clasps his hands together in his lap. He shrugs. “Do you wanna go to prom?”

Zayn starts, and reaches into his jacket for his smokes, mostly as an excuse to stall. He taps the pack against the heel of his hand a few times, tips sideways to drop a kiss to Niall’s shoulder in the meantime, and tucks a cigarette in his mouth. He mumbles, “You mind?” and, “Are you asking me or trying to gauge my interest?”

“Nah, you’re good. And I’m trying to gauge your interest.”

“Mm,” Zayn lights the cigarette, hollows his cheeks on an inhale. He checks Niall as he exhales, mouth quirking up at the ends. “I went to homecoming.”

“I know,” Niall says, smiling sweetly. “Thanks for that, by the way. But this is different. It's your last one.”

“Mm,” Zayn hunches his shoulders. “Told you, dances have never really been my thing. You guys are my thing. Dances, not so much.”

Niall nods, thoughtful frown in place, and Zayn holds the cigarette away so the smoke blows in the opposite direction, asks, “Do _you_ want to go to prom?”

He shakes his head and lifts a shoulder. “Not really. After prom sorta seems like where it’s at, anyway.”

Zayn takes another drag, politely turns his head as he expels the smoke. “We can do something that night, I guess? Like, get dressed and shit, tell our parents and everything, but really we’re just gonna fuck around. It’s a foolproof excuse to be out until the next morning without them asking us a million questions.”

Niall hums, reaches for Zayn’s hand to draw a nonsensical pattern along his wrist; a shiver runs up Zayn’s spine the way it always does with Niall’s touch and he grins, stubs the cigarette out on the shingles before it’s even halfway down to the filter and folds a leg under him, turns his hand over to catch Niall’s.

He ducks his head to kiss him - feels Niall’s nose wrinkle when their lips touch, probably because Zayn tastes like an ashtray - and Zayn puffs out a quiet breath of laughter, leans back and stretches out as far as he can for the half-full Gatorade on Niall’s desk, under the window. He takes a swig, swishes the drink around in his mouth until he can’t really taste the nicotine anymore and pretends not to notice the way Niall’s watching him - amused, softly fond, all the great things that makes his eyes crinkle up in the corners - and he does open up under Zayn’s mouth, second time around.

They’re barely apart when Niall murmurs, “Just the five of us? On prom night, I mean. I don’t think Harry and Liam wanted to go, either.” And he laughs: “We can get Louis to come, too, he’s been texting like crazy from school, I miss him.”

“Me too - and dressed to the nines still, yeah? I really wanna see you in a suit again,” Zayn admits, and drags his lips over the shell of Niall’s ear; Niall sighs and angles his head away, bares his neck in the process, and Zayn fits a grin to the dip of Niall’s shoulder. “I really wanna see you out of a suit.”

“Interesting,” Niall muses, nonchalant, though his hand disentangles from Zayn’s and drops heavy on his thigh as he speaks. “Really nice incentive.”

Zayn nuzzles into his neck for another moment, bites him lightly, just once, and then leans back to study Niall’s profile - the jaw that’s starting to go sharp, the delicate slope of his nose, the apple of his cheek that’s always lifted in a semblance of a smile.

Zayn says, “Can I take you to prom next year, though?”

Niall looks down and coughs out a laugh. And then he looks at Zayn, silent, until Zayn’s mouth twitches. “What?”

Niall shakes his head.

"No, what?” Zayn nudges him. “Really."

"I doubt," Niall adjusts in his seat and sighs, amused. "I doubt you’ll be free. You’ll probably be on the starting roster by then."

"At nineteen?" Zayn snorts, even though his heartbeat kickstarts at the thought. "Javy Báez was twenty and _still_ down in the farm system, _and_ he was a fucking beast. Castro, too. _And_ Bryant -“

"Bryant doesn’t even count, he played ball at school - and either way, you’re better," Niall says, immediate and sure. "You’re better than every kid who goes through the system. You’re eighteen and you’re ranked - what - third overall prospect? In the whole fucking _country_ , Malik.”

"Nah, you’re biased." Zayn leans over and bites his shoulder, this time, grips him by the bicep. "So you won’t go to your senior prom with me?"

Niall laughs, again, and when he glances at Zayn, gaze trailing down his body, Zayn’s chest tightens and he thinks. He thinks a lot of things. That this boy is possibly the best thing he’s found. That he makes Zayn feel too hotbig _crushed_ and it’s - it’s ridiculous, is what it is, overwhelmingly _absurd_.

He gives a contemplative tap to Niall’s collarbone peeking out from the hoodie, and high school relationships always seem more important than they actually are, so maybe he’ll end up cringing at all of this later on, but right now - right now he has Niall’s hand on his thigh, a steady, anchoring pressure, and it’s. It’s nice.

Zayn could probably settle in and live in this moment for awhile, if it were possible.

He sits straight, taps Niall under his jaw with a crooked finger, presses his thumb into the little dip of Niall’s chin, the concave space under his bottom lip, and Niall parts it on cue, tips his chin up when Zayn moves in to kiss him.

"Sorry, coach," he says when he pulls away, "can’t start today’s game, gotta take my boyfriend to a school dance."

Niall laughs, and it’s only partly self-deprecating. “I’m sure that’ll work, yeah.”

“He’ll understand, whoever it is by then.” Zayn sways into him. “You know. Probably just be all nostalgic like, ‘Ahh, I remember my first love -’”

Niall’s smile falls at that, and his mouth goes a little slack with surprise, eyes wide, and Zayn recites every single curse word he knows in his mind before he drops his head and his hand and laughs softly. “I mean. Um. So, prom night. The beach? I’ll text Lou when I’m home.”

“Yeah,” Niall says slowly, like he’s trying to process the information, and then he shakes his head and grins again. “No, yeah, the beach. It’ll be great.”

"Great, so, I - uh. That’s great." He’s flustered, hasn’t _actually_ told Niall he loves him yet, and he pushes into a careful stand. “Have to go, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Niall nods and smiles, and even in the dark, Zayn can see the flush stand out on his cheeks. Zayn slowly makes his way towards the trellis to climb down, stills when Niall doesn’t pick himself up to head back into his room.

He’s still sitting on the ledge, fiddling with his hair and peering out onto the street. Zayn says, “Ni?”

A wind picks up, and Niall shivers. He tilts his face in Zayn’s direction, smiles slow until he’s grinning mad and wild and Zayn grins back. “You going in?”

“Not yet, might smoke,” Niall digs into the pocket of his hoodie - it’s actually Liam’s, a size too big for him at _least_ \- and pulls out his favorite one hitter. He snorts when he glances up at Zayn again. “Don’t pout at me, Malik, I’d peer pressure you into smoking with me, but like.”

Niall waves a hand, and Zayn figures it’s supposed to mean _How do I know the MLB won’t make you pee in a god damn cup before you get drafted and then you won’t get signed because you’re a pothead even though the illegality of pot is ten kinds of pointless to begin with_.

Which. Probably _will_ happen, at some point, so Zayn’s not taking any chances. It’s why Liam offered to shave his head so they couldn’t take a hair sample, and Harry bought him all that cranberry juice in an attempt to be helpful, even though THC stores in fat cells (according to Louis who always Knows These Things) and all it did was make Zayn piss a lot. But still. Zayn can _pout_ about it.

“I know,” Niall’s already got a baggie open, body turned away from the wind as he takes a grinder out of the same pocket. “You look hot when you smoke, it’s a travesty really.”

He looks up briefly, grin still in place, bright even in the dark. Zayn’s chest is going to cave in any moment now, and he lets out a breath, crosses over to Niall once more. He crouches down, doesn’t bother to steady himself properly before he grips Niall by the neck and pulls him in for another kiss. Niall makes a noise, clutching his piece in his hand, licks his lips when Zayn straightens up again and teeters on the edge of the roof.

He breaks into a breathless smile, baggie forgotten in his lap for the moment. “What was that for?”

"No reason," Zayn hops up on his toes and laughs, turns back around and lifts a hand goodbye. "I’ll see you tomorrow. Night, babe."

"Night," Niall says faintly, and Zayn kneels down at the far end of the roof, hauls a leg onto the trellis and starts his way back down to the ground.

He casts one last look Niall’s way, over the shingled roof; he’s still unmoving from his spot, smiling dopily down at his lap, the fingers of his free hand pressed against his mouth, and this moment?

This moment is pretty great.


	4. summer. zayn, 18; niall, 17.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're bundled together, the five of them, huddled in close and staring out towards the lake when Niall laughs again - quiet and happy - and tips his head back onto Zayn's shoulder. The sun's starting to rise on the horizon, bleeding pinks and oranges into their waking world. The skyline looks set on fire and Zayn's moved from place to place his whole life, practically - has adjusted to picking up and leaving every few months or years like it's his job - but he's never felt so at home here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fudged the state championship dates a bit, but really...its a fic about boy band members playing baseball so I think a lil fudging is ok haha. ANYWAY. I was going to include a mini glossary so the baseball terms would make more sense but it would be...very not mini... so... I hope the point can still get across. (I can explain things in a future part, or even make a simple glossary chapter if people want, just drop a comment or an ask to the fic tumblr and you'll get all the useless baseball facts you could ever hope to have!!!)

* * *

On prom night, the four of them - plus Louis, who leads the way - ditch the dance and take the train downtown. They run up the subway steps two at a time, dash down the city streets until they eventually hop the barriers and run across Lake Shore Drive towards a section of the beach, decked out in suits and ties, laughing wildly into the night.

Liam and Harry keeps running when they hit the sand, clumsily shucking off shoes and socks and trousers and phones and then they're splashing into the water, tackling each other. Louis, next to Zayn, squeezes the nape of his neck before running off to join them. 

Niall collects their phones and sets them in the sand, opens up a music app on his phone and starts to play something low and lilting before he drops it into the pile.

"You're not jumping in?" Zayn asks him, and Niall shakes his head.

"Don't feel like riding the train in soggy clothes, to be honest."

Zayn hums in agreement, tugs on wrist arm to pull him in. He lopes an arm around Niall's shoulder, presses his free hand to the small of Niall's back and Niall shuffles in closer. He palms Zayn's hips under his suit jacket and smiles as they start to sway. 

"Thought you didn't like dancing."

Zayn says, "I don't," and kicks against the back of Niall's knee, quick; Niall's legs buckle and they fall into the sand. The song plays on and Niall laughs, short and sharp, with his head tipped back into the sand and his eyes shut tight.

He trails off and licks his lips, looks straight at Zayn, fingers brushing along Zayn's side, and Zayn wants him so much he gets dizzy with it, sometimes. 

"I'm gonna miss you," he says as he settles his weight and Niall's smile turns subdued.

"You're not leaving for another few weeks."

"Still gonna miss you."

"I'm getting sand down my suit jacket," Niall says in response, but it's at worst a half-assed whine and at best a gleeful declaration. 

"So take it off," Zayn suggests, and Niall pushes himself up, mouth hovering just over Zayn's as he tugs it off; he gets one hand on Zayn's jaw once he frees his arm, chases a kiss with a smile, and when they fall back into the sand, Zayn settles over him easily.

"No fucking on the beach, you filthy animals," Louis stage-whispers at them, but when Zayn looks up, he's grinning. 

He mimes a jacking off gesture and goes back to watching Liam and Harry wade in the water in just their underwear. "I'm going to throw your clothes in!" he shouts, and Liam blows a raspberry in response, tugging Harry into a headlock.

Niall pinches Zayn's arm to grab his attention, and then his side, when that doesn't work. He drags a palm up Zayn's ass and back down again to rest at the place where it meets his thigh. Zayn wriggles around, snuffles a laugh into Niall's neck. "Quit it."

"What? I like your butt."

"I don't have a butt." Zayn feels like he says this a lot. "It's bony as fuck, don't let the baseball uniform fool you."

Niall shrugs.

"I like your bones, then."

"That's," Zayn pauses to think about this, head resting on Niall's shoulder, and he pokes at a freckle on Niall's neck. "Creepy," he decides, "in a good way," and Niall turns his head quick peck him on the lips.

"I like all of you," Niall insists, and his voice is barely above a murmur. "Even your edges."

"I don't have _edges_."

"Sure you do," Niall grins, and kisses him again. "You're an edgy guy."

"Come with me to the draft next week," Zayn says, which. Was not what he planned on saying tonight. Or at all. But now that it's out, he's sort of glad he can't shove it back in again. 

He's sobered by the question, sits up to straddle Niall's thigh and Niall asks, "Really?"

"Yeah, I." Zayn paws at Niall's neck, his chest, leans down to rest their foreheads together. "Really, really."

"You don't want them there, too?" Niall asks when Zayn pulls away to look at him, chin jerking a little towards the lake. Liam is giving Harry a piggy back ride, and Louis looks torn between kissing them both and shoving them into the water.

"They can have me after," Zayn replies, and he grasps at Niall's chin with firm fingers. "My family's gonna be there, but I just. I want you. To be there too. I'll buy your plane ticket -"

"You don't have to," Niall interrupts him, and bites his lip, trails his hands along Zayn's thighs to set at his waist. He says softly, "I - I have money saved up, I can - I'll go."

Zayn's shoulders sag in what feels like relief, and he wants to smile, but he tamps it down momentarily. "You sure? I don't wanna make you do -"

"No, I. I want to see it happen," Niall says. He tugs on the open collar of Zayn's button up. "I wanna be there when your life changes."

Zayn lets himself smile at that. "Yeah?"

Niall nods against the sand; he sweeps his hands up Zayn's chest, tugs him down again with fingers interlocked at the nape of Zayn's neck. He kisses Zayn until they feel water dripping on them, and when they look up, Louis is standing over them in boxer briefs and an open button up. He shakes the water out of his hair, says, "You two need a cool down, honestly."

Zayn snorts, climbs off Niall to flop back into the sand, legs splayed. Niall hauls himself up, crawls in and turns around to settle in the open vee of Zayn's legs, rests his arms on his knees; he smiles, hunches his shoulders and laughs when Zayn leans forward to hug him and brush a kiss to his neck. Louis drops down to them in the next moment, leaning his back heavily against Zayn's side.

Liam shows up next, lifts Louis' legs to fit in the space underneath them. "I have sand in places no person should ever have sand," he declares, and wiggles his butt to get more comfortable anyway while Louis grins at him and pinches a section of bare thigh. Harry lopes over to them at last, lazily slumps down and thumps his head on Niall's knee.

"Your hair is soaked," Niall complains, and combs Harry's hair back anyway.

"Sectionals are next week," Harry reminds them, reaches up to grab Niall's wrist and bare his teeth at the skin there like some kind of soggy sixteen year old vampire. Louis snorts, settles an arm across Zayn's knee, knocking into Niall in the process. He says, "Zayn graduates next week."

Liam adds, "The _draft_ is next week."

Niall turns his head, runs his lips along Zayn's jaw and asks, "Are you nervous?"

"About graduation or the draft?"

"About everything."

They're bundled together, the five of them, huddled in close and staring out towards the lake when Niall laughs again - quiet and happy - and tips his head back onto Zayn's shoulder. The sun's starting to rise on the horizon, bleeding pinks and oranges into their waking world. The skyline looks set on fire and Zayn's moved from place to place his whole life, practically - has adjusted to picking up and leaving every few months or years like it's his job - but he's never felt so at home here.

"No," he says, and holds Niall close. "No, I think I'll be okay."

*

Zayn graduates and signs to a team all in the same week. He flies out without another minute to spare, and starts the Rookie short season with his heart in and a baseball in his hand. His mother stays with him for a few nights to help him settle in - dad's at home with the girls - and on her last day, she hands Zayn an large envelope.

He peers inside. "What is this?"

"You never told us what you wanted for your graduation present," his mom says, and Zayn chokes out a laugh when he realizes what it is.

"I mean, I - I figured the signing bonus was present enough?"

She shakes her head, rests a delicate, comforting hand on Zayn's neck. "That was yours. This is from us. Me and your father."

Zayn pulls out the slip - a ticket, round trip, and it's only Thursday to Sunday, but it falls conveniently within the state championship game the boys are playing in, on a weekend he has no games of his own. Zayn breaks into a grin - he hasn't seen his old teammates in a month. Hasn't seen his best friends in a month.

Hasn't seen Niall in a month.

He looks up, and Trisha pulls him into a hug; he says, "Thank you," and kisses the top of her head.

"We can still take care of you sometimes," she says, and Zayn buries his face at the crown of his mother's hair and laughs.

*

Louis drives in for the game, too, and Higgins gives them a long look when he sees them in the stands before smiling - actually smiling, Zayn never thought he’d see it - and jerking his head towards the dugout. 

Zayn can’t play because of his contract - technically isn’t even on the team anymore - but it doesn’t mean he's not on edge the moment the first pitch is thrown.

It’s the bottom of the ninth now, with one down and no one on base when a batter hits a gapper to right. Harry's there in time, throws to second to discourage a double. Ed gets the ball back on the mound, and Liam closes in on first to hold the runner on.

Zayn breathes a heavy sigh of relief. "C'mon," he whispers, and feels Higgins pat his shoulder in sympathy. "C'mon, guys, two more outs."

Louis has his hands linked together at the back of his head as he paces back and forth, and Zayn has his fingers curled tight in the chain link fence of the dugout, watching as the next player comes up to the plate.

Niall’s at short, knees bent slightly, eyes locked on the batter.

Two more outs.

That’s all they need.

Ed - he’s taken over ably, since Zayn left - takes a deep breath and lets it out, glove cradled against his chest. He winds up, throws his pitch. Zayn holds his breath; the batter swings and connects, and Louis is suddenly cursing next to him, _fuckfuckfuckshit_ -

The ball soars over Ed’s head, the runner on first takes off and Zayn thinks that's it, they've lost it, but then Niall jumps high off one foot, cuts the ball off short before it even has a chance to leave the infield, and several things happen all at once:

The runner heading to second scrambles in the dirt when he realizes Niall's caught the ball, digs his cleats in to shift his momentum back to first to tag up before Niall can throw him out and, still building off the jump from the catch, Niall twists the line of his torso, whips the ball towards Liam's waiting mitt at first a half-second before the runner's feet hit the base.

Liam's arm is still extended out, and he stares at the mitt in his hand like he's not quite sure what just happened. And then like a switch has been flicked, the ump calls the runner out and Harry whoops and Louis shakes Zayn from where they're standing in the dugout. Niall jumps again, pumping a fist into the air, and the whole team rushes towards first to dogpile each other, jostling Zayn and Louis in their effort to push forward onto the field.

Double play. Inning over. Game over.

Zayn shouts, "Did we just win the state fucking championship?" and he hears Louis answer, "We just won the _state fucking championship_ , Malik!"

Zayn laughs and he and Louis both rush out of the dugout as well, run to their old teammates and best friends. Zayn gets to Harry first, who nearly strangles him with the force of his hug, and then Liam, whose eyes have disappeared into laugh lines as he clutches the mitt to his chest with one hand. His free arm is hooked around Niall's neck, and he's babbling, "Beautiful fucking throw Niall, oh my God, beautiful."

Niall's cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright when he finally sees Zayn and barrels right into him with a hug. Zayn's got his arms open and ready, and he can barely hear anything over the sounds of dozens and dozens in the crowd cheering, and the rest of the team and people in the stands running out onto the field.

Zayn shouts _Fuck Horan, we won_ and Niall cups his face and grins and shouts back _I'm in love with you_ and before Zayn can react properly -

He is never going to come down from this adrenaline rush, never, his heart's racing and they won the state championship and Niall is in _love_ with him -

Niall kisses Zayn hard on the mouth, drops his hands from Zayn's face to grab him round the middle and Zayn clutches at his shoulders, kisses him back with enough enthusiasm that he knocks off both their caps in the process.

Their teammates jostle them and he can hear Louis belting out "We Are the Champions" with Liam and Harry; his breath catches, he presses his mouth to Niall's ear and says with a grin, "I love you, too."

Niall laughs - cackles really, loud and happy - and holds on tighter.

"Damn fucking right you're in love with me, Malik. I'm a state champ."

Zayn snuffles a laugh into Niall's neck and Niall adds, just loud enough to be heard, "So are you! A champ."

"This was your game -"

Niall shakes his head, backs up to palm Zayn's jaw once more. "You helped get us here, though. And now - now you got the next big step to look forward to, right?" He smiles even wider - Zayn's not sure how it's possible, but he does - and presses his thumb to the corner of Zayn's mouth like a kiss.

Niall's eyes are soft and fond and when he speaks again, it's too quiet, unheard over the cheers, but Zayn can just make out the words, anyway:

_Big league boyfriend._

*

Niall's got his hotel room to himself when Zayn uses Liam's key card to get in later; his hair's still damp from a shower, curling at his nape, sweatpants sitting low and tank slipping over one shoulder, eyes glued to the TV, where Sportscenter is on. He sits up against the headboard of his bed at the sound of the door opening, says, "Hey, Li, Cubs actually look promising this year -"

He cuts himself off when he turns his head and finds Zayn leaning against the door to shut it. Zayn smiles, walks over and flops down next to him, nonchalantly lifts an arm to rest it behind his head. Niall turns on his side and picks himself up on his elbow. "Hi."

Zayn stretches out like a cat, limbs extended and back arching. "Hey."

"You're not my assigned roommate for the weekend," Niall tells him.

Zayn knocks a hand against Niall's side and spreads his fingers out. "Funny, he's with Harry and Louis right now," Niall turns even more, holds himself up over Zayn, "said I could use his key card whenever I want the whole weekend..." he's smiling before he even finishes, unfurling his hands under Niall's jaw and laughing into a kiss.

Niall sits up on his knees to tug off his tank; he leans back into Zayn's space, and Zayn cranes his neck up to kiss him again, but Niall holds him in place with a hand tight on his jaw.

He says, quiet, "What?"

"About what I said earlier, when we were all on the field," Niall starts, and Zayn already feels a smile pull at his mouth. "I meant it."

Zayn yanks Niall's sweats past his thighs and Niall wiggles around to get them off the rest of the way. He's lifting his knees and kicking the sweats down to his feet when Zayn asks, "So you weren't hopped up on adrenaline from the win or anything?"

Niall sits up again for just a moment to toss the sweats off the bed. "Could ask you that, too."

Zayn shakes his head. "Nah, I think I - I think I've wanted to say that for awhile."

Niall kisses him, finally, speaks against Zayn's mouth, "Say what, Malik?"

"That I love you."

Niall bumps his nose against Zayn's and smiles. "I love you, too."

"Yeah?"

Niall's smile softens and his boxer briefs slide off next. He moves to his back, pulls Zayn on top of him, and he says with spread legs and Zayn against him, "I don't want this to be a bad memory."

Zayn's brows knit together and he shifts to look at Niall. "What are you -"

"No -" Niall lifts his chin to press his mouth to Zayn's again, circles his arms around Zayn's middle. "I mean, I don't want to remember the year I won the state championship and think about the ex I used to love."

Zayn sits up, knees nudging Niall's thighs apart, and silently tilts his head in confusion. Niall squeezes his hips. "I don't want this to be a past tense kind of thing."

Oh. Zayn touches his fingers to Niall's chin. "We won't be."

Niall smiles again. "Bet that's what every couple in high school says."

Zayn drags his hand down Niall's chest and stomach. "My parents met in high school." He gives Niall a lopsided grin. "Been married twenty-two years."

Niall jerks his chin, purses his lips until Zayn drops another quick kiss to his mouth. "What're you saying?"

He nudges his knee against Zayn's hip, and Zayn lets out a soft laugh and shrugs. "It's not always just wishful thinking."

"Your parents are really happy together," Niall says, and Zayn nods.

"They are."

"I'm really happy with you."

"Right," Zayn says. "But let's please stop talking about my parents when we're about to have sex."

Niall laughs. "After's alright, though?"

Zayn tucks his head into the crook of Niall's neck and mumbles, "This is going to be a really weird thing to remember when we're thirty."

"But we'll be together?"

"Yeah, I guess," Zayn gives a long suffering sigh that blends into another laugh when Niall pinches his side.

(They don't speak again until Zayn's digging blunt fingernails into Niall's back with one hand and he lets out another _love you_ and when Niall kisses a grin against his mouth and says it right back, Zayn gets the feeling this is bigger than high school -

Bigger than eighteen and an overnight at a hotel with a baseball team, and bigger than Zayn traveling halfway across the country in some harebrained attempt to follow his childhood dream. He wants this now and for however long Niall will have him and it should probably scare him, shouldn't it? But he can't muster up the energy to worry about something that feels so completely right.

The things Zayn is sure about can be counted on one hand, but lying here with Niall fucking him as he mumbles words of endearment on small, breathless laughs, Zayn figures he's got a future with him to add to the list.)


	5. late summer. zayn, 19; niall, 19.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn shifts in his seat so he's leaning against the side of the team bus now. "Things I like about Niall..."
> 
> Niall bares his teeth again, wide and obvious, and points to them.
> 
> “Right,” Zayn says with a grin. “He has an amazing smile. Brightens up - not even his face, just. You know. Everything. Can’t help but smile back at it. Especially when he does that thing where his nose wrinkles up.”
> 
> Involuntarily, Niall's nose does exactly that, and he buries his head into his pillow for a moment before coming back up for air. Zayn adds, “The first day we met, he smiled at me like that. Should've known I was a goner right then and there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ignores real life for fic* I've been listening to "18" on repeat while putting these snippets together and everything hurts.

* * *

"Let me see!"

Zayn holds his phone up, leaning heavily against Frank; it's the middle of the night and they're on an hours-long team bus ride to their next away game. He'd been on the verge of sleep when his FaceTime had gone off, and now he's looking at Niall lying in bed, baring his teeth right at the pinpoint camera.

Zayn laughs. "Niall, they look great!"

" _Y'think_?" Niall licks across the top of his newly-braceless teeth and makes another face. " _Feels weird as fuck_."

"Yeah, but now you won't accidentally cut your mouth when we -"

" _Please, Zayn, not in front of your teammate's delicate ears_ ," Niall interrupts, and Frank snorts.

"I have heard worse, Horan, trust."

Niall laughs and rolls over in bed; the screen goes black for a moment and then he's back again sitting up on his elbows, one palm holding up his chin. " _You need to get back here already_ ," he says.

"I know, babe."

" _My birthday's in a week and a half_ ," he adds, and he's smiling, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. " _And I haven't seen you since April_." 

"I know," Zayn repeats. "Season's almost over, I promise you'll be be my first stop after my parents. Wanna celebrate, y'know."

" _High-A league boyfriend_ ," Niall says. " _Starting Double-A soon. Next year you'll be on a roster in the Majors for sure_."

"Don't jinx it," Zayn laughs, even as a thrill runs through him.

Niall rolls onto his back in his dorm room, arms held out high above him. " _Since you're going to miss my birthday, you should tell me all the things you like about me_."

"What," Zayn laughs again, "now?"

Niall nods, and Frank, the traitor, leans into Zayn's space. "Oh, yeah, you definitely should, that won't be embarrassing at all."

"Fuck off, Ocean," Zayn replies, but he watches as Niall curls up phone held to his side, head on his pillow. It almost looks like they could be sleeping together. Zayn misses him so much there's an actual ache in his chest.

"Fine," Zayn says, and shifts in his seat so he's leaning against the side of the team bus now. "Things I like about Niall..."

Niall bares his teeth again, wide and obvious, and points to them.

“Right,” Zayn says with a grin. “He has an amazing smile. Brightens up - not even his face, just. You know. Everything. Can’t help but smile back at it. Especially when he does that thing where his nose wrinkles up.”

Involuntarily, Niall's nose does exactly that, and he buries his head into his pillow for a moment before coming back up for air. Zayn adds, “The first day we met, he smiled at me like that. Should've known I was a goner right then and there.”

Next to him, Frank rests a hand against his heart and swoons. Zayn leans forward to aim a punch at his shoulder; on his phone screen, Niall isn't smiling anymore, but he isn't unhappy, just a little wistful. 

Zayn continues on: "I like that he’s willing to do anything to protect someone he cares about, and that people can talk to him for ten minutes, and it’s like they’ve known him for years.”

Zayn picks at a stray stitch in his jeans, and he murmurs, “I like knowing that, of all the people he could have loved back, he picked me.”

Niall does laugh again, quietly, Zayn rests his head against the bus window, watches Niall shift and settle in his bed, watches to him breathe; Niall says, equal parts happy and hopeful, “ _I really wish I could kiss you right now_.”

“Me, too," Zayn says, and a pillow whacks Niall in the face 

" _Niall, go to sleep!_ " he hears an annoyed voice say - Josh, he thinks. Niall's roommate.

Niall whips it back over, and then hovers close to the screen, whispering, " _Okay, I have to go. Josh has an eight AM math class. Did I tell you we're joining a fraternity_?"

Zayn shakes his head.

" _Well, we are, it's gonna be fuckin' great_ -"

" _I will throw my laptop at your head, I don't care if you're talking to_ Derek fucking Jeter _, Niall_ ," Josh threatens, and Niall huffs out a laugh and pulls his phone in close.

" _Have to go_ ," he whispers again, and Zayn nods.

"Yeah, me too. Should try and get some sleep."

Niall kisses the pads of his fingers and then taps the screen of his phone. " _Love you_."

"Miss you," Zayn says automatically, a habit now between the two of them, the unspoken _wish you were here_ as loud as anything.

*

He surprises Niall nine days later, standing outside of his dorm hall. Niall stops in place when he sees him, then drops his bag and runs. He laughs, arms around Zayn's shoulder.

He says, "I _missed_ you," and he says it with his whole body, with his face buried in Zayn's neck, with his hand combing at the hair at Zayn's nape.

He laughs when they finally part, swipes his hands quick under his eyes. Then he shoves at Zayn's shoulder and says, "Jerk. Thought I wasn't seeing you until October."

Zayn walks a little ahead to pick up Niall's forgotten bookbag, wraps an arm around Niall's waist and drops a kiss to Niall's temple.

"C'mon," he says. "I've been waiting out here for like three hours, I'm freezing."

"I can think of ways to warm you up."

Zayn smiles. "I'm counting on it."

*

Zayn's got a plan. It's an admittedly a very ridiculous plan, but he has one. It started because Niall made an offhand comment to Zayn one night over the phone after a second away game into a three game series about enjoying a good strip tease. 

"Always wanted to see someone pop out of a cake, you know? Cake and tits, can't go wrong," and Zayn had been laughing too hard to respond, but now he's here, and Niall's birthday is tomorrow and, well. It'll be a nice surprise. He hopes.

They're playing Assassin's Creed, Zayn lying on his stomach on Niall's bed and Niall's lounging in a butterfly chair next to it. Josh, bless him, has opted to stay at a mutual friend's dorm until Zayn's gone so they're alone for the time being.

Niall's kicking his ass. Zayn would chalk it up to Niall just being good at the game, because that's usually the case but as it is on this particular night, Zayn can't bring himself to pay attention to the screen. Niall's much more interesting with how his cheeks pink up when he's into a game, how soft his hair looks under his snapback. 

How Zayn really just wants to get him out of the sweats he's wearing. 

"I have to piss," Zayn says suddenly, and Niall laughs without looking up from the screen. 

"Thanks for the update?"

"Pause the game." Zayn slides off the bed and pads to the adjoined bathroom suite at the end of the room on socked feet.

Niall catches his wrist as he passes, grins up at him and says nothing. Zayn smiles back, drops a heavy hand onto the top of Niall's snapback and gives it a light shake. 

Once Zayn's in the toilet, he leans against the sink and peers into the mirror. His hair's flopping onto his forehead because he's been too lazy to style it since he got in. He looks well-rested. He _feels_ well-rested. And it's due in large part to the fact that Niall purposefully shuts off his alarm clock when he leaves for class - and disables the one's on Zayn's phone - so Zayn can sleep in for once. And it works: Zayn hasn't woken up before ten yet since he's been here. It's kind of great, not getting up at Too Early In The Fucking Morning to practice. Really, he's just thanking Niall. With sex.

Zayn washes his hands, dries them on his jeans and he can't take what's about to happen next seriously at all, so he decides to laugh his way through it. He closes the bathroom door, leans against it until Niall - who did not pause the game, because he is a big fat cheat - looks over.

"Hi," he says brightly. Zayn smiles and thinks _I love you_ and explains, "I couldn't get you a birthday cake."

"Oh?" Niall shrugs and turns back to the game "You didn't have to."

"No, I mean," Zayn has his hands behind his back and cants his hips off the wall with a smirk. "I couldn't find one to pop out of."

Niall smiles slow, and squints at the screen like he's concentrating. "Are you gonna," he switches to a breathy singing voice, " _happy birthday, Mr. President_ ," and Zayn laughs.

"Nah, but there is a soundtrack."

"Aren't you supposed to be dressed up like a cop or something? Arrest me for being too sexy?"

Zayn lifts a shoulder. "I can put on a baseball uniform."

Niall brows jump as he stares at the screen, and then he looks over at Zayn likes he's mulling it over. "What exactly are you doing, anyway?"

"If you're horny, let's do it?" Zayn asks back, and Niall lets out a surprised laugh. (He still hasn't paused the game.) Zayn actually sings _ride it, my pony_ and Niall looks over again, laughter trailing off and blending into a curious half-smile.

Zayn gives his eyebrows a ridiculous waggle and pushes off the wall. He starts to unbuckle his belt - _my saddle’s waiting_ \- and attempts an exaggerated, sultry look. Niall snorts and adjusts his snapback. His eyes crinkle up and he says, "Channing Tatum did this with a bit more finesse - "

Zayn's belt hits Niall in the chest. 

He says, "Come and jump on it," and makes it sound like a reprimand. Niall's still smiling, still trying not to laugh - but the hand holding his controller does droop a bit. 

Zayn reaches behind up him, grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head and oh, okay, that gets a reaction: Niall drops the controller, settles deeper into the butterfly chair. He knocks his snapback up again and scratches at his hair and his eyes trail down over Zayn's tattoos.

The game's still running, but Niall isn't even looking at the screen anymore, and Zayn sings again softly _if you're horny, let's do it_. He keeps walking towards Niall, undoes his buttonfly along the way; Niall swipes his tongue quick across his bottom lip, keeps readjusting his snapback like it's giving him something to do. Zayn tugs his jeans down, steps out of them so he's just left in his boxer-briefs and his knee bumps the side of the chair as he reaches it.

He says, "Ride it," and he's not sure when he stopped laughing, but he has, and when he settles down onto the seat and into Niall's lap, Niall's mouth is dropped open, and his cheeks are ruddy. He looks so good like this, and Zayn turns his snapback around, pulls the bill down so Niall's head tilts up.

Niall's responding laugh isn't so much a laugh as it is a shaky exhale and he whispers, "Fuck."

His fingers sneak under the edges of Zayn's boxer briefs and Zayn shuffles in closer and tells him, "Yeah, that's kind of the point."

Niall looks at him with half-lidded eyes, and Zayn picks up the snapback this time and drops backwards on his own head; Niall sags in the chair, spreads his legs and forces Zayn's farther apart until Zayn inches down and there's no kind of space between them. 

Zayn leans forward to kiss him, but Niall shifts instead to press his mouth to Zayn's ear. "Keep - " he expels a sharp breath, drops his open mouth to the juncture of Zayn's neck and shoulder when Zayn grinds down in his lap, "keep singing."

"Sing what -" 

Niall does kiss him then, and when they separate, Zayn mouths along his jaw, down the line of his throat. Niall says, "Anything, I don't fucking - anything."

He has an arm around Zayn's waist, and he pushes up as Zayn rocks down again, and Zayn hides a smile against Niall's throat, angles up to nip his earlobe. Niall's chest hitches and he digs his fingers into Zayn's hips.

Zayn sings, " _Take me out to the ballgame_..."

Niall laughs.

He pulls away to look at Zayn, chest moving quick, mouth wet from biting it, and then he's reaching up and plucking his snapback off Zayn's head and letting it fall to the side. He shifts to the edge, keeps an arm tight around Zayn's middle and scoots forward. His knees hit the carpet with a dull thud, and Zayn's back follows right after, legs still on either side of Niall. Zayn uses his position as leverage, pushes himself up with a hand before Niall has a chance to catch his breath properly, until Niall's the one on his back with Zayn sitting astride his hips.

Niall lands with a surprised, cut off sound, and they're both laughing breathlessly as Zayn leans forward, picks the snapback up and puts it on again. Niall's has a flush that spreads from his cheeks to his neck to his chest and he looks, Zayn thinks, equal parts sweet and wrecked.

Niall grins so wide the bridge of his nose crinkles and he quotes, "Baby, grind on me?"

Zayn stretches to the side, towards Niall's desk, digs blindly into the bottom drawer with a hand and Niall keeps singing under his breath - _relax your mind, take your time on me_ \- even when Zayn drops a foil packet and a small bottle onto the carpet next to him.

"Let me get deeper, shorty ride on me," Niall punctuates this line by tugging Zayn down slow and hard with hands still tight on his hips, and Zayn can't - he closes his eyes for a moment and lets his head tip back - 

"Your," he licks his lips, "your back is gonna be fucked from the carpet if we don’t get up."

Niall laughs, soft and rumbling and from his chest.

"Guess we’ll both be fucked, then."

*

They do make it to the bed. Eventually. And Niall is dozing on Zayn’s chest by the time it creeps past midnight and into his actual birthday; Zayn brushes light fingers over the rubbed raw skin across Niall’s shoulder blades and asks, “Worth it?”

Niall buries a sleepy smile into the crook of his neck, says, “Best birthday present ever, Malik.” 

(He wears the rug burn like a badge of honor, after, turns the best shade of flushed when “Pony” comes up on shuffle at a party the next night.

Zayn slides a hand under his chin and Niall nips at his fingers as he pulls it away and says, ”Just wait. I’ve got _months_ to think of your present.”

"Babe," Zayn shakes his head, and over the speakers thumping out Ginuwine, he leans in close and murmurs, "You can’t strip tease someone to a Justin Bieber song."

Niall just laughs, and hauls him closer.)


	6. spring. zayn, 21; niall, 20.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall is grinning so wide in the photo that it hurts to look at him, and he has a hand under the table that's probably just in his lap, but there's this horrid little niggling thought in the back of Zayn's mind that wonders if Niall's fingers are curled around Josh's knee the way they used to do when Zayn was sat close.
> 
> (Zayn doesn't reply, and he blows the game to the point where not even the closer can save it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Maroon 5 voice* it's not always rainbows and butterflies??????
> 
> (For ref: Harry now goes to the same school as Niall, Liam is nearby, Louis is downstate. A **closer** is exactly what it sounds like - the pitcher that closes the final innings of a game.)

Niall sends him a photo of he and Harry, decked out in their fitted suits and ties. Harry's beaming wide, and even with his shoulders stooped he still has a couple inches on Niall. The text Niall sends with it says _OFFICIALLY BROTHERS :D - Harry is a big little bro hahahaha_. Zayn sends off a quick message back as he heads to practice before their night game - _Proud of him, have a good nite celebrating ilu!!! :)_ \- and he doesn't get another chance to check his phone until he's back in his room, well past midnight.

There's a few more photos in his inbox: the first is of Harry kissing a champagne bottle, the second is of Niall and Josh taking a shot (that one Harry took - he captions it _Just curious... does Niall have a gag reflex...? ;)_ and Zayn snorts and gets the third and stops because. Well. 

It's a similar shot to the very first one Niall had sent, except for the fact that they're both obviously drunk. Harry's lost his suit jacket, and he's rolled up his sleeves over his forearms and is pointing and mean mugging Niall's phone camera like his life depends on it. Niall has an arm slung loose around Harry's neck; his suit jacket is thrown over his shoulder and hooked on the fingers of his free hand, with his tie hanging undone around his neck.

His chin is lifted and his eyes are half-lidded and his hair is rumpled and he's smirking and Zayn - Zayn might be a little drunk too because he texts _Ur so fcukinh hot.. More? U alone?_

 **Niall**  
Heyyyy :) H is sleepin poor kid knocked out soon as we got in - r u drunk???

 **Zayn**  
Nah just tipsy. Wbu?

 **Niall**  
Nope haha been back , had food.sobered up mostly!!!! Still got my suit on tho , sort of

Zayn sends back _Sort of?_ and scrubs a hand through his hair, sprawls on his bed to get comfortable. He's flipping idly through channels when Niall responds: 

_Too lazy hahaha_

This photo is of Niall in front of his bathroom mirror, far enough away that Zayn can tell he doesn't have the trousers on anymore - just little black boxer briefs. His button-ups open and he still has the tie dangling around his neck. He's staring at his phone with the utmost look of concentration, probably to keep it steady, and Zayn swipes a hand down his face and dials.

Niall picks up on the second ring. " _Hey, Z_."

"You're killin' me, babe," Zayn sighs.

Niall laughs in response. 

"Still in the bathroom?"

" _Bed_." Niall's voice is sleepy, hoarse the way it always gets after drinking, and he adds nonchalantly, " _Wish you were here. Feel like this tie's got a lot of uses_."

Zayn scoots up his bed, and his joggers slide down his hips. He switches the phone to his other ear. "Like?"

" _Well. Ties... tie things_."

"Did you figure that one out all by yourself?"

" _Ha ha - was thinking blindfold?_ "

"What," Zayn grins, tipping his head back onto the pillow, "you wanna play like, sexy hide and seek?"

" _I wanna play 'blindfold me and have some fun with it'._ "

Zayn's knuckles skim idly over his stomach. "Not familiar with that one."

" _No?_ " Niall hums. " _Shame_."

"Wouldn't you wanna see what I was doing?"

" _I trust you_ ," Niall tells him easily. " _And, I mean, it's like - tactile pleasure, yeah? It'd make everything you do hyperfocused for me. Be begging for it_."

Zayn's fingers sneak just under the waistband of his boxer briefs and brush across the skin there "Begging for what? Tell me."

" _Whatever you'll give - me_ ," Niall says, and his breath hitches on the last word.

Zayn smiles. "Are you touching yourself?"

" _You aren't?_ " 

He's laughing, and then a door opens and shuts loudly. Niall curses and someone else laughs, obnoxious. There's muffled conversation on Niall's end as he says, " _Fuck you_ ," but it's good-natured. 

Zayn takes his hand out of his briefs and rolls onto his stomach. " _Leave me alone, go the fuck next door and bother Calum or something. Go!_ "

He's laughing wildly now, out of breath, and someone - Josh, Zayn guesses, they're still roommates even at the fraternity - mutters something unintelligible through the phone line. " _Yeah, so what, I'm gonna jerk off with my boyfriend on the phone, at least I get some even if it's long distance, you prick_."

"Niall," Zayn says.

Niall sounds like he's struggling now, snorting; the phone goes muffled, and then his voice comes in again, too loud. " _Sorry, sorry_ ," he says. " _Get the fuck - Josh, Jesus, sorry_ -"

"It's okay."

" _Mood's ruined, isn't it?_ " he asks, breathless, and Zayn lifts a pillow and plops it on top of his head.

"A little, yeah."

" _I'm sorry_ ," Niall says again. " _Skype me tomorrow? I'll do whatever you want_."

Zayn perks up a bit at that. "Yeah?"

" _Whatever you want_ ," Niall repeats. " _Okay?_ "

"Yep," Zayn agrees with a sigh. "Love you."

" _Miss you,_ " Niall says, and ends the call.

*

It's not a thing, until it is.

*

The night before he starts in his first Triple-A game, Harry sends him a photo. It's in a dimly lit bar, and he recognizes a few of the people: most notably Harry, Liam, and Louis - and Sophia and Eleanor, the new girlfriends. There are a dozen more of their friends Zayn doesn't know, probably from the fraternity and college in general; Harry's captioned it _Celebrating our boy playing triple a ball...:)_. 

He's in the photo, so someone not with them must have taken it. They're sitting in a wraparound booth in a dimly lit corner, Louis and Liam with their beers clinked in celebration; Harry half in Liam's lap, arm around his shoulder like he's run over just in time to get in the frame. Even Stan and Ed are there.

He's biting down a grin until he recognizes the guy sitting next to Niall. It's Josh - Josh, smiling, and Josh with his arm slung over Niall's shoulders and yeah, alright, Zayn doesn't have to make this a big deal because it _isn't_ , it's not, and Jesus, he's not _that guy_ , that boyfriend. He doesn't get possessive and he doesn't get distrustful; it's so shitty and it makes him feel awful -

But he hasn't seen any of them in months and Niall is grinning so wide it hurts to look at him, and he has a hand under the table that's probably just in his lap, but there's this horrid little niggling thought in the back of Zayn's mind that wonders if Niall's fingers are curled around Josh's knee the way they used to do when Zayn was sat close.

(Zayn doesn't reply, and he blows the game to the point where not even the closer can save it.)

*

"Are you guys going out?"

Niall nods, leaning over his laptop to type something onto his keyboard. " _Yeah, Harry found a new place that doesn't card_."

Zayn's Skype pings with a message from Niall. It's a bunch of hearts in a row, and then an animated kissy face.

Liam pokes his face in front of the camera, waggles his tongue at Zayn. " _Hi, I'm here for the weekend. You need to get here and party with us_."

"I do," Zayn agrees. "You guys looks nice. Is it a club or something?"

" _Think so!_ " Niall calls as he disappears from the screen a moment. He strikes an exaggerated pose when he gets to the kitchen, ridiculous, mouth pouted. " _I put shit in my hair and everything_."

"You look great," Zayn says softly. Harry gags.

" _What about me?_ " he says, pouting and stretching out his shirt to look down at it.

Zayn says, "How did you even get those jeans on?"

" _Hopes and wishes, mostly_ ," Liam offers.

Harry nods solemnly. " _Also pliers_."

" _Vat of lube?_ " a boy says as he comes out from the bathroom, and Niall waves him over. He double takes the screen says, " _Holy shit_."

" _Hey_ ," Niall gestures for him to come closer, smiling. " _Say hi_."

"Hi, Josh," Zayn says, and Josh lifts a hand hello.

" _Dude, I still can't believe you're like, famous_." He looks at Niall, smacks him in the chest. " _You talk to a famous person!_ "

"I'm not really famous -"

" _He kisses a famous person_ ," Liam nods, interrupting Zayn.

" _He fucks_ -"

" _Harry_ ," Niall laughs, nudging him out of the way. " _Gotta go, Z_."

Zayn, suddenly, feels out of place. He wants to play ball and he wants to be there, with them, but he can't have it both ways. "Yeah, me - um. Me, too," he finishes awkwardly. It's nearly midnight, and he's got a game tomorrow.

Niall cocks his head after a moment. " _You okay?_ "

"Fine." Zayn smiles. "Go have fun." 

" _Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow? Unless you don't mind a couple drunk texts later_."

"I've got an afternoon game tomorrow, but I don't mind," Zayn says, and Niall's smiles.

" _Good._ " He taps his fingers to his lips, and then his screen. " _Love you_."

Zayn mimics the gesture. "Miss you," he says, and Niall smiles at him for another moment before he's turning around and heading towards everyone once more. Zayn's mouse hovers over End Call, and he sees Josh fly out from the corner of the screen and sidetackle Niall onto the sofa. The last thing he hears before the line cuts out is Niall's laughter, ringing clear in his ears.

*

He blows another game, and he can't get a hold of Niall after. Not that it matters, because he can hear the whispers, can reads the sport reports on the minor league-ers coming up. _It's too early_ , they're saying. _He needs more time to mature_.

He tosses the paper, turns off his tablet and shoves his laptop under the growing mound of clothes in his room. The next day, Frank tells him to ignore it, _bullshit, man, let's go out and drink_ , so they do, and Zayn does.

He's stumbling back into his apartment with Frank hours later, waves goodbye to their cabbie, and Frank's patting his back and heading to his room when Zayn's phone goes off. Niall's name flashes on the screen and Zayn leans against the wall and frowns down at it.

He lets it go to voicemail, standing there in the living room. The ringing starts up again, and Zayn combs a hand through his hair, tugs at the roots and hits answer.

"Niall?"

There's cheering on Niall's end, and Niall says, " _One sec_." 

The line is muffled for a moment, and then the cheering gets even louder, and when Niall puts his phone back up to his ear, he's laughing, " _I'll be right - Josh - stop_ -" 

Zayn thumps his head back against the wall, letting a breath out. Niall goes _oof_ and there's more muffled laughter, Josh's voice saying something persuasively that Zayn can't hear. 

" _No, get off, I'm not playing. Just go find a substitute - Harry_ ," Zayn's staring at his phone now, watching the time run up. " _Harry, play with Josh so he'll get off me_."

More rustling comes through, and then the sound of a door shutting, and the party gets quieter and quieter until Zayn can't hear anything except Niall's quiet, " _Hey, sorry, I've been on a winning streak all night in beer pong, they wanted me to keep it going_."

"What a champ," Zayn says, monotone, and scratches at his chin. "Was that Josh?"

" _Yeah, he's been my pong partner all night_."

"If you wanna go back and play, you can just call later?" 

Niall laughs.

" _Stop_ ," he says. " _I'd rather talk to you. Always wanna talk to you. Actually I_ -"

He sighs, and the sounds of the party get even fainter. " _I really wanted to talk to you. Are you okay?_ " He breathes out, calm, across the line. " _Been reading the paper. You're not playing how you usually do, I just. I don't. Is something wrong?_ "

"No." Zayn sinks with his back to the wall. "I'm just tired I guess." The words comes out clipped, and Niall hesitates for a second.

" _Bullshit_ ," he says. " _What is it?_ "

Zayn can hear Frank rummaging through his drawers for clothes. The shower starts running a few moments later.

" _Zayn?_ "

"Look, I'm fine," Zayn snaps. "I had a few bad games, that's it, just go out with Josh or whatever, I don't need your sympathy."

The line goes quiet. Niall inhales slow, asks, " _What are you even talking about?_ "

"You _know_ -"

" _No, I_ don't _, Zayn. So why don't you tell me?_ "

Zayn thunks his head against the wall, harder this time. "He's always around, and you talk about him -"

" _I talk about Harry all the time, too, but I don't wanna fuck_ him _, either_ ," Niall says in a steely voice.

"Where were you yesterday then?" Zayn asks, and he hates himself for doing it, hates that he's being like this, but he can't make himself stop.

" _What_ about _yesterday? Zayn, we hadn't planned to Skype or anything and your game ran late, I figured you'd still be on the bus - why would I deliberately ignore you?_ "

"I don't know, maybe you were with Josh and were too preoccupied to pick up -"

" _Are you fucking kidding me?_ " Niall exhales exasperatedly. " _Zayn, I_ -"

He cuts himself off, and Zayn's scrubbing a hand through sweaty hair when Niall tells him tiredly, " _I didn't call you to fight, and I'm not enabling you just because you wanna make assumptions about my friendships with people_."

Zayn ducks his head to his knees, scrubs his hand through his hair again. "I'm -"

" _Look, call me when you're not gonna be an asshole and accuse me of cheating on you, alright? I'm sorry about your game_."

"Niall -"

" _I'll talk to you later_ ," Niall says, and hangs up.

*

Zayn trudges to his room. It doesn't take long before the texts from Harry come pouring in:

_Why does Niall look like he wants to cry????????_

_ZAYN I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING IF YOU BROKE UP WITH HIM I WILL ACTUALLY KILL YOU_

And ten minutes after:

_We went back up to his room at the house. Zayn wtf? He won't say anything_

Zayn ignores them one by one, and sinks further and further under the covers. Liam's already tried calling him, and he knows an email from Louis is probably going to come in any moment from now, but for now, he watches Harry's messages pop up with a growing sense of emptiness.

_Josh? Seriously, Zayn?_

_Even if Niall was interested WHICH HE ISNT BC YOU ARE HIS BF AND HE ONLY LOVES YOU I think Niall's DICK AND BALLS WOULD GET IN THE WAY BECAUSE JOSH ISNT INTO THAT_

_NOT THAT ITD EVEN MAKE A DIFFERENCE IF HE WAS QUEER BECAUSE YOU SHOULDNT CARE EITHER WAY...!_

The last text comes in before he finally knocks out. It's only a sentence long, but it settles a weight in Zayn's chest. Zayn buries his face into his pillow. He hopes he has a hangover in the morning. Feels like he might deserve it.

_I love you Malik but ur a fucking idiot_


	7. summer. zayn, 21; niall, 20.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _I talk about you all the time_ ," Niall says. "My friends at school - my fucking teammates _who know who you are - they don't even call you by your name, it's just all 'hey, Niall, read about your boyfriend in the paper again.' You're the only person I've ever_ -"
> 
> He hesitates, and laughs even as his eyes go bright, " _Me and Harry were watching a movie last month, right? And he kept glancing at me while he Googled 'engagement rings for guys' in all caps on his phone, like. Everyone just_ knows _. And so should you_."
> 
> "I _do_ ," Zayn says, leaning forward towards the screen of his laptop. "I swear, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sad trombone noise*

* * *

It takes a few weeks, a few awkward texts and ignored phone calls before Niall finally agrees to a Skype call on a day they're both free. Zayn sets the laptop on his desk, hits the video call button. Niall answers, and when the webcam on his laptop blinks to life, he's sitting in front of his desk, too, a leg pulled up to his chest and a chin resting on his knee. He's as subdued as Zayn's ever seen him, and it makes Zayn's heart hurt a little. He absently rubs at his chest, and he says, "Hey."

" _Hi_."

Zayn chews on a thumbnail for a moment and he takes a sharp breath in and starts with, "I know you wouldn't, okay, I know that, I know you'd never -"

Niall grimaces and folds his arms over his knee, turns and buries his face so Zayn can't see.

"You'd never intentionally hurt me, you'd never do that, Ni, and I knew I was taking things out of context, and just like - projecting insecure shit but there was this tiny, awful voice in my head going, you know, 'maybe it'd just be easier for him' -"

Niall lifts his head. " _Easier_?"

"To - to be with someone you can actually _be with_. To not have to wait months to see them -"

" _God, don't turn yourself into a martyr_ ," Niall tells him. He swipes his hand under his eye and sniffs. " _If I wanted to leave, I would've done it already. If - Zayn, I would've done it when you first told me you were gonna sign with the farm league when you were eighteen, but I didn't because I_ \- " his expression hardens and he says stubbornly, " _Jesus fucking Christ, you asshole, I_ love _you._ "

Zayn's chest hitches and Niall shakes his head.

" _I talk about you all the time. My friends at school - my fucking_ teammates _who know who you are - they don't even call you by your name, it's just all 'hey, Niall, read about your boyfriend in the paper again.' You're the only person I've ever_ -"

He hesitates, and laughs even as his eyes go bright, " _Me and Harry were watching a movie last month, right? And he kept glancing at me while he Googled 'engagement rings for guys' in all caps on his phone, like. Everyone just_ knows _. And so should you_."

"I _do_ ," Zayn says, leaning forward towards the screen of his laptop. "I swear, I know."

" _Then you have to_ trust _me_ ," Niall says with an exasperated lift of his shoulders. " _We have to trust each other. That's the only way this is gonna work_."

"I'm," Zayn covers his eyes for a moment, slides them across his lids to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's frustrating. I think it just kept building up and eating at me. Makes me do shitty things like snap at you for stuff you haven't even done."

Niall picking at his bottom lip as he nods, and Zayn tells him on a sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He rests an elbow on his desk, plops his chin on his palm.

"Sometimes I just picture myself in your life there. You know? Letting you fall asleep on my shoulder when you're at the library too long. Helping you study for exams. Getting to wake up to you without thinking about my next flight like it's an expiration date."

" _I hate that_ ," Niall murmurs, and rubs at his eyes. " _I hate that I think about everything in terms of time - how long until one of us can visit, how long 'til that visits over, and then it just restarts itself again and I - I knew this is what it'd be like, but I fucking hate it_."

He's got his chin on his knee again. He looks so tired. " _I love you more, though. So. I guess it evens out_."

"I love you, too," Zayn tells him, quick, and for added measure, says it again, "Niall, I love you so much, and I swear the second we're in the same state for longer than a weekend trip and can actually live together, we're gonna do all the mundane couple shit that we never get to do now. And I'm gonna spend a shit ton of money at IKEA and we'll make Liam build everything -"

" _Okay_ ," Niall laughs again, and a few tears roll down when he does, but it sounds lighter. He wipes his cheeks again. " _Okay, yeah. Trips to IKEA and mundane couple shit_."

They both go quiet until Zayn breathes deep. "I trust you. Okay? I trust you. And I'm sorry. And I'm really, really glad you don't want to break up."

Niall snorts at that, lolls his head so his cheeks against his knee. " _If we ever broke up, it'd be for something a lot worse than an overactive imagination_." He lifts his head.

" _And I'm not saying the shit about Josh was okay, but - but I do get it. You gotta get out of your head about this long distance thing, Z_ ," he says. " _Talk to Liam about it. Talk to Harry and Louis and_ me _. Don't let it fester; it's not healthy_."

"You're the wisest frat boy I know," Zayn informs him solemnly, and when Niall laughs, it's sudden and with his head thrown back - a proper cackle. Something heavy lifts off Zayn's shoulders and he licks his lips, taps the pads of his fingers against his mouth, and then taps his screen.

"Love you. Can't say it enough."

" _Miss you_ ," Niall says back. " _Always miss you_."

Zayn's hand is still on the screen; he only drops it when Niall reaches out to touch. "Won't have to one day."

Niall smiles, a little sad. " _It'll be a good day, I think_."

"Yeah?"

He nods. " _Yeah, the best_."

*

It takes them a while to get back to normal, to get back to good. But they do. And Zayn needs it, more than anything. Needs Niall, more than anything.

He starts playing like his old self, and he and Niall come back stronger than ever.

*

It's mid-June when Niall says, “ _There’s supposed to be a couple scouts at the next game_ ,” casual as you like.

Zayn sits up quick in bed. "What, seriously?"

“ _Yeah_.” Niall’s smiling, Zayn can hear it in his voice. “ _They’re - I mean, I guess they’re looking for people to send to the High-A farm system down south for next season, after I turn twenty-one_.”

"Niall," Zayn scrubs at his hair, wants to grin too, if it’s what he thinks he is: "Niall, are they scouting the team in general or -"

“ _Just - well. Just me. Yeah_.”

Zayn laughs, “Dude!”

“ _I know!_ " Niall says. " _Man, I - I didn’t think I’d want that, you know? But I might. And even if nothing happens, it’s - it’s cool, that they think I’m good enough._ ”

"You’re _more_ than good enough,” Zayn insists. “Any team would be lucky to have you.”

“ _It’s just the farm system_ -“

"Fuck that, babe," Zayn tells him. "They’re coming to your school to see you - who knows, maybe you’ll snag a contract in June. Move up quick." He smiles as he chews on a thumbnail. "Maybe you’ll be in Triple-A with me by the end of the summer."

Niall snorts. “ _You’re getting way too far ahead of yourself, Malik_.”

"Then you’ll get called up to the big leagues," Zayn continues on. "Oh - what if we get called up at the same time, and I have to pitch against you?"

" _Zayn_.”

"I’d walk you intentionally. Wouldn’t want to be the reason my boyfriend strikes out."

“ _I know what all your pitches are gonna be before you even throw them - if anyone can hit off you, it’s me_.”

"You don’t know all my pitches."

“ _You rotate your right shoulder a couple degrees right before you throw a slider_ ,” Niall says casually, and Zayn can picture him tilting his head in thought.

“ _Not enough to notice - don’t even think you’d be there now if it was noticeable, obviously. Probably just because I spent two years staring at you during practice. It’s really cute_.”

Zayn flops down onto his bed, laughing again, and tugs his pillow over his face. “God, when are you coming again?”

“ _I mean, if you give me twenty minutes I can kick Harry out and we can make both our phone bills next month feel a little dirty_ -“

"Niall," Zayn’s shoulders are shaking with laughter, and he presses the pillow down so his voice is muffled. "To visit.”

“ _After finals, I think? Still gotta buy the plane ticket, but_.”

"But you’re coming here."

“ _Yeah, I miss you_ ,” Niall says, and, “ _I bought that shampoo you like. The fruity one with the minty thingies._ ”

"Why?"

“ _Pillow smells like you again_ ,” Niall answers, soft and easy.

"Yo."

Zayn lifts the pillow and looks up at the voice; Frank’s leaning into his room, hands gripping the doorway.

"Herrera just texted. Impromptu bonding shit at the bar down the block, come on… That your boy?" he asks, nodding to Zayn’s phone, and Zayn nods back. Frank grins. "When’s he coming to see you again? He’s cool, man, I like him."

“Is that Frank?” Niall asks, and Zayn says, “Yeah. He’s in love with you, I think. Keeps talking about how pretty you are.”

Over Niall’s cackling, Frank makes a kissy face at Zayn and flips him off good-naturedly. “We’re leaving in two minutes, asshole.”

“ _Frank, huh,_ ” Niall says inquisitively once his laughter has trailed off, and Zayn shrugs, even though Niall can’t see.

“Whatever, he’s pretty cool. I found out he writes poems, too, so, like. He’s sensitive if you’re into that sorta thing.”

“ _You cried that time we watched_ Finding Nemo,” Niall reminds him, tone placating, “ _I remember_.”

Zayn smiles, and there’s a moment where he just listens to Niall breathe before he says, “When’s your next game?”

“ _Thursday afternoon, at home. You have one too, don’t you?_ ”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about me. Good luck, yeah? Not that you need it.”

“ _Nothing’s gonna happen, Zayn, it’s just one game_ -”

Zayn scoots towards the edge of the bed, jams his phone to his ear with a shoulder so he can yank on the boots he’d kicked off earlier.

“One game can change everything.”

Niall sighs down the line. “ _Yeah, point. I’ll call you after, okay? Let you know if you have to warm up a seat in your dugout for me_."

He’s teasing, but it’s the first time the whole conversation that Zayn’s heard the underlying anxiousness in his voice. Frank passes by again, knocks on the doorframe to let Zayn know they’re leaving, and Zayn stands and tells him softly, “Pretend I’m there. Sitting next to Harry in the stands. Just - pretend it’s like when we were in high school. You’ll be fine. You’ll be great.”

Niall murmurs _Yeah?_ like he needs the reassurance and Zayn switches the phone to his other ear, grabs his wallet and heads towards the door with a smile. “Yeah. I mean, I believe in you.”

Niall laughs, and it’s quiet.

“ _Don’t really need anything else then_ ,” he says.

*

Zayn has twelve missed calls and three voice messages when he turns his phone back on after his game Thursday, and there’s a big red **27** hovering above his inbox icon; he grins down at his screen, hikes his duffel bag further up his shoulder as he makes his way out of the stadium, doesn’t even have time to check before it’s ringing again with Harry’s name as the Caller ID.

He answers, “Hey, how’d Niall do -”

“ _Oh, Jesus Christ_ ,” Harry interrupts him, in a rush, “ _Zayn, I tried your phone for like a million fucking hours before Niall reminded me when he woke up that you had a game - I yelled at you in one of the voicemails so don’t listen to it okay, I called you an asshole, I’m so sorry, I was just upset_ -”

“Harry.” Zayn stops walking, lowers his duffel bag to the ground. Inexplicably - or maybe in preparation of something - the hair on the back of his neck rises. “What do you mean when he woke up?”

“ _Uh_ ,” the stall comes out shaky, and Zayn knows Harry’s rubbing his forehead and grimacing without even seeing him. “ _We’re at the hospital_.”

Zayn tugs on the cords of his necklace, ducks down to scratch at the back of his head still damp from his post-game shower. He closes his eyes. “What happened?”

“ _Line drive. Straight to the knee._ ”

“His knee?” Zayn’s pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids. “But - but he’s okay, right? Like, what, it’s bruised and he’ll be playing again in a couple weeks?”

“ _I - …I’ve never seen a ball hit so hard in my life, Zayn. He just went down after, like a ragdoll._ ” Zayn coughs out a mirthless laugh and Harry says, “ _Shit, I don’t - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to_ -”

“It’s okay,” Zayn says. “Can I just talk to him?”

“ _Doped up on pain meds_ ,” Harry tells him apologetically. “ _He’s been in and out of sleep since we got here_.”

There’s a jumble of voices on Harry’s end, and then Harry says, “ _The nurse is glaring at me, I have to go. I’ll have him call you as soon as he wakes up, alright? I just. I wanted to get a hold of you_.”

Zayn presses his fingers in harder. “Yeah - Wait, H, hold on…”

“ _Yeah?_ "

“How bad is it? Before I talk to him. Just. So I know.”

Harry stays silent for a long moment. Then:

“ _I think he might be done_.”

The bottom drops out, and Zayn loses his breath. “Right.”

“ _He can do surgery and physical therapy but they said it shattered and he knows he’s not going to come back from that completely, you could see it in his_ face _, Zayn, and I - I’m sorry_ ,” Harry says thickly.

“It wasn’t your hit, Harry. It’s baseball. Just happens.” Zayn swipes at his eyes, adjusts the cap on his head and sniffs. “Just, um. Just call me.”

“ _As soon as he wakes up_ ,” Harry repeats. “ _Yeah, I will. I love you_.”

"Love you, too."

He hangs up, and is still frowning down at his phone when someone asks, “You alright?”

At Frank’s voice, Zayn snaps his head up and he has no idea how he must look, but whatever it is, Frank’s eyes go wide and he comes in close. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Zayn laughs because he doesn’t know how else to react; he swipes roughly at his eyes and sniffs. “Remember when I told you Niall had that game?”

"Yeah."

"I, uh.” Zayn dazedly picked his duffel bag back, and shakes his head. “He got hurt. And… I think his career just ended before it could start."

"Shit," Frank says, hushed, and Zayn nods.

"Shit," he agrees. He tucks his phone into his sweats, wipes at his eyes one last time and asks, “How quick do you think I can get a plane ticket out of here?"

Frank’s mouth twists up with concern. “Still pretty early, could probably catch a late flight if the airport here has any leaving past seven.”

Zayn’s nodding, already heading towards the exits once more, and he doesn’t realize Frank’s following until he hears a pair of footsteps climbing down the stairs right after him.

He glances back. “What are you doing?”

"Where’re you going?" Frank says, and Zayn scoffs.

“Where do you _think_ , Ocean.”

"To the airport? You don’t even know if you can get a flight out yet.”

“I can check on my phone on the way there.”

"Man, you know you’re gonna get heat for this. We have a game Saturday. It’s gonna look like insubordination."

Zayn turns on his heel.

“So tell them,” he says sharply. “Or don’t. I really don’t fucking care. I’m going, and if I get in trouble, I get in trouble. What’re they gonna do, O, take me off the roster? Bump me down to Double-A and blame it on bad performance? I’d love to see them try and replace me with someone better.”

Frank tsks, but his mouth twitches up, too. Then he slings an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and turns them so they’re both heading out, this time around.

“I’ll take you,” he says. “Your car’s a piece of shit, I doubt it’ll make it to the end of the block let alone to the damn airport.”

(Zayn smiles, faltering, but there, and a handful of hours later, he’s in the window seat of the tiniest plane he’s ever been on, watching the world disappear from under him as his plane lifts off the tarmac.)

*

He bumps into Harry outside the hospital with a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, a little before five in the morning. Harry’s hair is wilted and his clothes are wrinkled beyond belief, probably from sleeping on uncomfortable hospital chair for half the day, but he smiles when he notices Zayn.

“Haven’t seen you in months,” he murmurs, mid-hug, cigarette held out to the side so it won’t burn Zayn. “Wish it was under different circumstances.”

Zayn combs a hand through his hair, kisses his cheek as he pulls away. “Me, too. And I didn’t know you smoked, H.” He snatches the cigarette away to take a drag, and Harry lifts a shoulder.

“Bummed one off one of the other visitors here. Seemed like a good way to distract myself. You got my text about his room number?” He cocks his head, takes in Zayn’s unkempt hair, the sweats and ratty t-shirt he always changes into after a game. “Did you come straight here from the stadium?”

“No,” Zayn says, and then, after he takes a last drag of the cigarette down to its filter: “At least I left my duffel bag in my car?”

Harry lets out a hushed laugh, shaking his head. “Go, I can’t believe you’re even still talking to me. I’m waiting for a cab - hopefully I can get a few hours of sleep in before my morning class.”

“You’ll be alright?”

Harry nods, hiding a yawn behind a fist. “Yeah, just tell him I said bye, I’ll be back after I get off work tonight, anyway. When’s your return flight?”

“I… didn’t book one yet,” Zayn admits, and in the next breath, he’s got Harry octopus’ed around him again, nuzzling into his neck.

“You’re still so gone for him,” Harry says, at once amused and fond. “I just missed seeing it a lot.”

Zayn smiles into his hair, and feels at home. “I missed you, too, Harry.”

*

Niall’s awake when Zayn gets to his room. His left leg is immobilized in a temporary cast and elevated by a couple pillows, and he struggles to push himself up when he sees Zayn.

He smiles small, and gives a soft, pleased _Hi_ , and it’s like all the tension that’s been bearing down on Zayn just dissipates. Niall’s got bags under his eyes and his hair’s a veritable bird’s nest and for the first time in a while, Zayn’s not so sure he can do everything on his own anymore. Not if it means leaving Niall for months on end.

"Zayn?"

"Sorry," he croaks out, and clears his throat, steps further into the room. "Sorry, hey."

"You alright?"

"Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?"

"Well, we already know the answer to that question," Niall says ruefully, and when Zayn’s next inhale comes in shaky, Niall tsks. 

"Zayn, it’s okay."

"No, it’s not," Zayn tells him, and he’s at Niall’s hospital bed in two long strides. "I want to go back and punch the kid who got a hit off your pitcher even though I know it wasn’t on purpose, and I wanna punch your pitcher for throwing a ball that was so fucking easy to hit -"

"It’s not anyone’s fault, Zayn, I just didn’t react quick enough -"

"Let me be irrationally angry about this," Zayn says stubbornly.

"Go ahead," Niall sighs, and lets his head thump onto the pillow. He reaches out when Zayn lowers the guardrail and settles next to him, on his right side.

Zayn grabs his hand, presses a kiss to Niall’s knuckles. “What’s next?”  
"Surgery is Sunday," Niall hefts himself up again, winces slightly, and Zayn adjusts the pillows behind his back so he can sit comfortably. "After that - rest, I guess. Then crutches, PT. All that fun stuff."

"You’ll come back from this," Zayn tells him, sure, and Niall’s responding laugh is tired.

"No, I won’t."

"Yes, you will. You just have to work at it and concentrate on getting healthy and playing again -"

"Zayn," Niall interrupts him gently, and Zayn stops, lets him talk. "I’m not stupid. It’s not even a clean break, I saw the X-ray. I’m gonna do whatever I have to to get it back to normal, but you know as well as I do that it’s not going to be one hundred percent okay, no matter how hard I work." His hand drifts up, closes around the sleeve of Zayn’s shirt to pull him in until Zayn kisses him.

"I love you for being encouraging but it’s alright.”

"You can still play ball," Zayn says, forehead resting against Niall’s.

"I can," he agrees. "But it won’t be like before - Zayn," he sighs again, and shifts impatiently in the hospital bed. "Lie down."

"You sure - ?"

"Yeah, lie down," he tugs on Zayn’s arm until Zayn complies, as carefully as possible. He adjusts the pillows again so they can lie in the bed properly, and Niall doesn’t start speaking until Zayn’s pressed along his good side, head held up by his hand and elbow planted on the bed next to Niall’s head.

"I love this game, yeah? I love it more than almost anything. But it’s never been - it’s never been my… my," he pauses, weaves Zayn’s free hand with his and tries to find the right word. "It’s never been my _world_ the way it is for you. You live to play it, and you’re passionate about it, and that’s one of my favorite fucking things about you.”

"But?"

"But I’m not you," Niall says. "And it was never the goal to play in the Majors. I mean, maybe when I was seven, yeah, but it wasn’t a priority. It's like Harry, and Liam, y'know? Even Louis, even though he's playing for his school. We're going for our _courses_ even though - even though we were good. Even though I'm good. Great." He pauses, and his voice is softer when he corrects, "was. And the scouts coming was more exciting than I thought it’d be but, like. I went to school for a reason, Zayn. And it wasn’t to get scouted. I’m fine with it.”

He looks back at Zayn, jaw tight and he repeats: “I’m _fine_.”

Zayn lets go of his hand to palm his cheek instead and says nothing. A beat later, Niall’s brows pinch together, and his chin trembles; he ducks his head under Zayn’s chin the best he can and Zayn just slings an arm across his waist and says casually,

"Louis offered to go to the visitors’ school and light their baseball field on fire."

Niall laughs, and it sounds off. He turns in as much as his injury allows, sniffs and makes a soft, pained sound that gets muffled into Zayn’s shirt.

"I’m sorry,” Zayn tells him, thumb skimming back and forth over his hipbone. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

(He’s seen Niall cry when they get to the stampede scene in _The Lion King_ , every time, and he’s seen Niall tear up at a frustrating loss in high school and he’s seen Niall’s eyes go bright when he’s happy but Zayn’s never seen him like this:

Trembling, and broken in more ways than one with no easy solution. Zayn can’t fix it, can’t fix any of it, can’t wave a magic fucking wand around and erase the past few days, but -

But he can lie here cramped and awkward on a hospital bed not meant to fit two bodies, and he can kiss the crown of Niall’s head and pretend not to notice the growing wet patch from where Niall’s face is pressed against his chest.)

Niall murmurs with a tired, stuffed up voice, “You’re too fucking far away, Malik,” and Zayn’s gut dips fitfully because he knows what Niall means, of course he does.

There’s texts and calls and Skype and Snapchats and sometimes it’s enough for Zayn, that almost-contact, that constant reminder that someone loves him, but it’s fucking awful, too. A saving grace that turns into a sort of self-destruction at the hands of his iPhone and eats away at Zayn’s contentment right as it builds it up, reminds him both of what he has and what he’s too far away to touch and he wishes it were different.

He wishes it wouldn’t have taken Niall getting beamed by a ball to be able to drop everything and visit, because Zayn wanted Niall close - he always wants Niall close -  
But he didn’t want it like this.

*

Later, when Niall’s composed himself enough to just sit side-by-side in bed with Zayn, they flick through the shitty basic cable channels on the tv and fill each other in on the more routine things they’ve each missed while apart -

(They also ignore the sweet looks the nurses keep shooting them when they walk in to check on Niall - Zayn’s pretty sure one of them _cooed_ , last time -)

And he’s playing absentmindedly with Zayn’s fingers then he stops, suddenly, and hauls the hand closer to inspect it.

“Is this new?” He runs a thumb over the tiny inked 23 on Zayn’s wrist. “Is this my number from high school?”

Zayn nods. Niall presses his thumb in and teases, “Maybe I’ll finally get one for you.”

"I - don’t," Zayn says softly, and Niall turns his head towards Zayn, so they’re face to face.

"Why not?" Zayn can’t make himself answer, and Niall’s smile breaks wider. "Is this one of those ‘I want to tell you but you’ll laugh’ things?"

Zayn’s mouth quirks up in the corners.

Niall snakes an arm around him, uses the other to push himself up a bit better with the slightest wince as his leg jostles. “In my defense,” he starts idly, “I laugh at almost everything. Tell me.”

"Don’t laugh," Zayn insists; Niall brows knit together and he shakes his head minutely.

"I won’t."

Zayn takes a breath, lets it out loudly. “I, um. I like that you’ve never wanted a tattoo. That you’re not all marked up like I am.”

He reaches out to trail his fingertips across Niall’s collarbone and down the middle of his chest, covered by the hospital gown.

"I like -" He stops himself, licks his lips and laughs, drop his head to the crook of Niall’s neck.

Niall turns his face in, smiles and says, “What, c’mon, tell me. My knee’s _broken_ , you know -“

“Already playing the pity card,” Zayn sighs woundedly, mouth lilting up at one end, but he explains, anyway:

"I like that the only marks that ever stay are things I’ve put there." His voice comes out muffled. "With - y’know - hands and - and my mouth. I like that - I like that I’m the only thing that gets to stay, even if it’s only for a little while."

Niall doesn’t say anything for a long moment. And then, with the beginnings of a smile, he asks, hesitantly, “You really think that stuff’s not permanent?”

Zayn lifts his head in question, and Niall crooks a finger under his chin, leans in to kiss him, just once.

"I’m just as marked up as you, Malik,” he says. “Only difference is you can’t see mine."


	8. summer to fall. zayn, 22; niall, 22.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are so many different ways Zayn thinks of home.
> 
> Home is the delighted laughter of his sisters when he surprises them with an unexpected visit; it’s the smell of his mother’s favorite perfume, and sitting in the nosebleeds with his father at his first ball game, glove in hand and cap on tight, eyes locked on the field below them. 
> 
> Home is Harry’s optimism, and Liam’s strength, and Louis’ fire. Home is Niall’s wrists, and his hair. It’s his calloused fingers and his smile and the way Zayn wishes he could’ve seen it when it was a little less perfect. It’s Niall’s concentration when he’s on short and his body is coiled tight and ready to strike, and the way he loves Zayn like it’s as easy as breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cy Young award is an award for pitchers voted in by players. Also like *flaps hands* vague smut??? Idk I tried.

* * *

Niall's leaning against the kitchen counter when he makes an annoyed sound and shifts his weight. Zayn pulls off his dick and looks up, hand jacking him in the meantime. He glances at Niall's left leg; it's bent, lifted just enough that his toes graze the floor. He's out of breath when he says, "Your knee?"

Niall pulls a face. Zayn clicks his tongue and pushes off the floor to stand in front of him and press him into the counter.

"You have to tell me," he chides, and Niall sighs.

"Yeah, I - "

He stops. There's a frustrated moue to his mouth and Zayn holds him by the waist and kisses his neck. "Hey, it's fine, you've only been on it for a few weeks, doctor said it'd take time."

Niall presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. "I swear, I've never been this - I just wanna fuck you, or - do anything, but I can't, or we have to stop halfway through because of my stupid _knee_ , and it's not like we even have a lot of time to be together and I -"

He pauses again, and drops his hands to fit them together at the small of Zayn's back instead. He's still hard, and wet from Zayn's mouth, and he says, "I miss you."

(Zayn knows what he means: yeah, this is the first time Zayn's been able to fly out to see him since he's been off his crutches but that's not - that's not it, exactly. Niall misses him, they always miss each other, but Zayn figures Niall misses Zayn underneath him, too: legs spread open obscenely, hand flying up to grab the headboard as Niall fucks into him hard and fast with fingers holding painfully tight to Zayn's thighs.)

Zayn gives him a lopsided grin, turns and tugs on his hand to get him to follow. "C'mere."

Niall lets himself be pulled; Zayn shimmies out of his boxer briefs on the way to the sofa, and the shirt he slept in - Niall's clothes are back in the kitchen, sans the knee brace he has to wear.

Zayn kicks the coffee table out, gestures for Niall to sit on the sofa. Niall flops down, and Zayn pulls the ottoman Harry thought would be a nice touch over, and grabs both the throw pillows. One goes on the floor as he kneels, the other gets placed on the ottoman; he lifts Niall's leg onto it so it's elevated, and scoots in as close as he can, body fitting between Niall's thighs, hands pushing into the cushions as he stretches forward until his mouth's over Niall's.

"You can still fuck me," he says, and Niall holds him close with a hand on his jaw.

"Yeah?"

Zayn smiles, and kisses him before ducking back down with a shrug and an eyebrow raise. "Maybe not in the strictest sense, but."

Niall lets his head fall back against the sofa when he realizes what Zayn's getting at. "Jesus Christ."

"Is that a yes then?" Zayn looks down, as Niall stutters out a breath, arm folded across his eyes; at his stomach muscles that contract and quiver when Zayn gets a hand on him.

He nips at the inside of Niall's thigh, and then higher, sucks the skin into his mouth until a whine gets caught in Niall's throat and Zayn's sure it'll bruise. He licks up the underside of Niall's dick, and his hand is slicker when it replaces, wetter, as he shifts to bite a mark into Niall's other thigh. 

He's sucking yet another bruise into the smooth skin below Niall's navel when Niall's hand curls gently into his hair. Zayn looks up, folds his free arm over Niall's good leg and rests his chin on it. His mouth quirks up in the corners, and Niall mirrors it. He knocks the pad of his index finger against the end of Zayn's nose, and then drops his hand and sags into the cushions.

"Get going, yeah?"

Zayn shakes his head and laughs. "True romance."

"You're the love of my life," Niall says tenderly, earnestly, cupping his chin. "Now please suck my dick."

Zayn bites down on a grin.

"Well," he says. "Since you asked nicely."

*

The year Zayn turns twenty-two, he gets called up to the Majors. His first pitch is thrown during an away game on a humid, windy day in May in Houston, and while his parents can't quite make it down, he's got the next best thing: 

Louis flies in from New York and Liam, Harry and Niall make the long drive from their respective schools. Zayn won't get to see them until after the game, but for now, the knowledge of their presence is more than enough for him, a little piece of home for him to have. 

And there are so many different ways Zayn thinks of home:

Home is the delighted laughter of his sisters when he surprises them with an unexpected visit; it’s the smell of his mother’s favorite perfume, and sitting in the nosebleeds with his father at his first ball game, glove in hand and cap on tight, eyes locked on the field below them. Home is Liam and Harry and Louis, too, and he knows they’re just people, really, he knows this trust he puts into them maybe borders too much on something else, borders on reliant, but they haven’t let him down yet, and they won’t.

Home is Harry’s optimism, and Liam’s strength, and Louis’ fire. Home is Niall’s wrists, and his hair. It’s his calloused fingers and his smile and the way Zayn wishes he could’ve seen it when it was a little less perfect. It’s Niall’s concentration when he’s on short and his body is coiled tight and ready to strike, and the way he loves Zayn like it’s as easy as breathing.

Home is here, in this baseball diamond, in baseball. Home is in the stands, with his friends watching him. And the cheers are deafening from the mound, but Zayn closes his eyes and inhales the way his dad taught him so he wouldn’t get nervous -

 _oneslowtwobreathethreeand_ -

everything goes quiet, muffled and muted like the snowy channels on old TV sets.

Zayn opens his eyes just in time to watch his first batter step up to the plate. The player kicks his cleats in the dirt, hitches the front leg of his uniform up and bend his knees, bat at the ready, and home, Zayn thinks, is a lot of things.

But mostly its sixty feet from him, in front of a catcher.

And it’s a thousand miles away, where his sisters are huddled up on the sofa together in front of the television after school, where his mom is at work adjusting the dial of her radio, where his dad’s sneaking out to the break room to watch on a tiny twelve-inch screen.

Frank calls the pitch signals:

Four. _Curve._

Zayn shakes his head. Frank pauses.

One, with a tilt towards the batter.

_Fastball, inside corner._

Zayn nods. And then - and his father will send him something later, when Zayn’s in his hotel room, drunk on a win, will text him a photo captured from a warped and grainy screen of a break room television set -

Zayn _smiles._

He can do this.

*

The guys can’t wait for him at the park, not with the Post Game interview, the coach’s talk, showering and getting on the team bus, so Zayn texts Niall directions to the hotel, specifies ahead of time with the attendant at the front desk that the blond guy - _seriously, just the blond guy, Niall, it doesn’t matter what the one with pointy teeth tells you_ \- gets a key card to Zayn’s room.

He stops by the McDonald’s across the way once the bus pulls up to the hotel, gets recognized by the cashier midway through ordering enough Big Macs and chicken nuggets and fries to last an apocalypse, and it feels weird still, to grin and say, “Yeah, I’m him,” to sign his name hastily on the back of an extra to-go bag, to know he’s a story people can tell now.

When he finally gets to the hotel, he figures he’s kind of glad the team’s got a three game series now, means he’ll get to stay here more than one night and actually enjoy himself - especially since Frank's cool enough to bunk with another teammate instead, so Zayn and Niall can enjoy relative privacy. Plus, he _also_ knows Liam booked them another very nice room at this hotel, because he’s quietly thoughtful like that, and he’ll make Louis and Harry leave with him early enough for Zayn to get to hang with Niall alone for a few hours, at least.

Once Zayn opens the door to his room, he finds Louis and Liam wrestling for the TV remote, Harry flipping boredly through a hotel menu, and Niall sitting on the edge of Zayn’s bed, already looking towards the door, perked up like he’s been waiting all day for the sound of the key card.

They’re all up and running within seconds, remote tug-of-war and menu forgotten, and Zayn barely has enough time to toss one of the McDonald’s bags Harry’s way with a _Brought you guys burgers and shit_ before Niall’s jumping - honestly jumping, even with his bad knee - into Zayn’s arms and wrapping his legs around Zayn’s waist.

Zayn _oofs_ , stumbles back until his head thumps hard against the wall; he laughs, gets his hands under Niall’s thighs to shift around so Niall can tighten the grip his arms have around Zayn’s neck.

Niall says with a hoarse, overused voice, “Fuck, I missed you,” and, “ _fuck_ , Zayn, you did so good.”

He drops his feet to the floor then, slides his hands down to Zayn’s waist, and he’s grinning now, wild and unrestrained enough that Zayn has to aim for his cheek instead of his mouth as a hello. He ducks his head under Zayn’s chin, and Zayn smiles over his shoulder at Harry and Louis before they’re scrambling forward and talking over one another -

\- _that call that ump made in the sixth was_ criminal, _bro_ -

- _asshole doesn’t know a strike zone when he sees it -_

- _post-game analysis called you a ‘rising talent,' said they wouldn’t be surprised if you were on track for a Cy Young Award, like_ -

- _our best fucking friend, first year out, with an award like that_ -

and Zayn laughs, and spreads his arms to gather them up. When they separate, give him room again - except for Niall, who drags him towards his bed so they can flop down on it together - Zayn says, “This is even better than winning.”

Liam laughs. “Don’t let your GM hear you say that.”

Zayn crawls up the bed, moves until he’s got a head on Niall’s thigh. Niall scritch-scratches the hair at the nape of his neck, still slightly damp from the shower Zayn’d taken after the game. His fingers dip under Zayn’s collar, skate across the jut of his clavicle, and Zayn cranes his neck and sighs, closing his eyes.

“Aaaand with that,” Louis says. “We leave you.”

“What?” Zayn cracks open an eye again. “Why are you leaving, I thought you were staying in the city ‘til -”

“Relax,” Liam says, “we’re just gonna,” he pauses, eyes the McDonald’s bag for them, and then snatches up both, anyway, “we’re gonna take all of your food and go to our room. And stay there.”

“Until you text it’s safe to come back,” Harry adds with a grin. He aims a kick at the back of Louis’ knee, shoves a little at Liam’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go -” and then they’re off, talking over one another again as they leave.

The second the door shuts behind them, Niall immediately wiggles around on Zayn’s bed, comes to rest only when he’s sprawled half on top of Zayn. He gets a hand on Zayn’s jaw, kisses him properly this time and says, “Hi.”

“Hey. Why’s your voice all scratchy?” Zayn asks, rubbing his fingers against Niall’s throat lightly, and Niall laughs.

“Cheering,” he says, and presses his mouth to Zayn’s again. “For you, obviously.”

Zayn brushes the hair off his forehead, murmurs _My own private cheerleader, make all my teammates jealous_ , and Niall laughs, drifts off when Zayn muffles the sound with his mouth and runs a hand up the inside of the baseball jersey Niall’s wearing. Zayn stops kissing him, taps his fingers along Niall’s spine.

“Wait, who’s jersey are you wearing?”

“Um.” Niall’s cheeks are tinged the slightest red color. “About that.”

He sits up, pulls the jersey off - and that’s just fine with Zayn, thanks. Niall’s still got a white tee on underneath, but Zayn can deal with him wearing clothes for a little longer, he guesses - and the flush gets more pronounced, spreads down Niall’s neck and out to his ears as he turns it over.

**MALIK**  
 **16**

“I don’t even have a jersey,” Zayn says faintly. “I mean, I have a jersey, but there’s no official one out yet.” He fingers the fabric of it - good quality, looks nearly authentic.

Niall shrugs. “I know a guy. And you’ll have one soon, anyway. Figured I’d get one of my own before your jersey’s in every sporting goods store across the country and they all sell out and I’m fucked.”

He smiles as he says this, and Zayn laughs too, but it’s a little - a little disbelieving. “They won’t sell out.”

“You’re on track for rookie of the year, probably,” Niall reminds him, and leans over Zayn to whispersmile, “They’re gonna sell out.”

He digs his chin into Zayn’s chest then. “I’m so proud of you. Did I say that already?”

Zayn walks his fingers up the slope of Niall’s nose. “You say it a lot.”

“Well, I am. Told anyone who’d listen at the game this afternoon about how much I fucking love you. Louis clapped a hand over my mouth and threatened to dump his beer over my head at one point.”

“Were you drunk?” Zayn asks, amused, and Niall exhales on a laugh.

“Well, it’s me, so,” he says, and Zayn grins, turns them onto their sides so he can tug Niall in close with an arm slung around his middle.

They go quiet, for a few beats, and then Zayn says, “You have no idea what it meant today. Just. Pitching, and knowing you were there, and not just watching on some television in your room. Like, actually there. Feels like - um. It feels big.”

“Feels big?”

“Like a step,” Zayn can feel the tips of his ears grow hot and he shrugs as much as he can while lying down. “I - I don’t know. We’re still here.”

Niall’s mouth pulls down in the corners, bemused. “Of course we’re still here.”

“No, but like,” Zayn stops, tucks his fingers under the hem of Niall’s shirt. “You went to school, and I moved south for the Minors, and then I moved _again_ and I still wasn't any closer to you, and you’re finishing school, but. You know. We’re here.”

“Together, you mean.”

“Yeah.” Zayn half-smiles. “I wouldn’t want anyone else doing this with me.”

Niall curls into Zayn as close as he can. “Don’t ever have to worry about that not being the case,” he says softly.

Zayn has a hand on Niall’s cheek, a thumb pushing at the corner of his mouth. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Niall sighs, automatic and effortless. “I fucking promise, Z, like - I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

He knows Niall means it, of course he knows that, and Zayn pictures bits of their future like he’s seen it before: all stadium lights, and thousand-watt smiles, and quiet nights in, too, just being reckless and young and so fucking in _love_.

Maybe it’s ridiculous to have faith in them, to think they’ll stay like this, always - to look down at a head of mussed up, dirty-blond hair and think of things like family and commitment. But maybe it was ridiculous to think he’d pitch in front of tens of thousands of people one day, too.

Zayn’s life has just been a combined continuation of good timing, and great skill, and sheer dumb luck, and he’s so grateful for every day that passes that doesn’t wake him up from this world like a fever dream. Where he doesn’t wake up seventwelvesixteen again, alone in his room breaking in a new glove as he thinks to himself _Maybe someday I can have everything_.

And he does, he has everything he’s ever wanted at the moment: a job that’s a part of who he is like an unshakable piece inside of him, the ability to provide for his family the way he always dreamt, best friends who’ve been with him through it all - and the boy he’s loved since he was seventeen and still trying to figure out how he’d get here.

Zayn has always had faith in impossible things.

He wouldn’t have made it this far without it.

*

"So," Niall says later, head bent over the edge of the mattress while Zayn picks at the rest of their food ordered from room service, half-naked. "I've been thinking."

Zayn pops a fry in his mouth. "About what?"

Niall doesn't say anything after that, long enough that Zayn carefully lifts the tray and settles it on the floor, crawls over to straddles Niall's knees and look down at him. "What?"

He's chewing nervously on his bottom lip, and then laughs and hauls himself up with Zayn in his lap. "So," he says again, drawing a line down the center of Zayn's bare chest. "I was talking to my academic advisor and, um. I'm gonna take a couple extra courses over the summer."

"Okay." Zayn smiles, perplexed. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah. And if I pass everything - "

"Which you will - "

"I can probably meet my graduation requirements by the end of fall semester. And... Y'know. Graduate early," Niall finishes, and glances up to catch Zayn's eye.

Zayn smiles wider and cups his face. "Niall, that's fucking great. Why do you look so worried?"

"I'm not worried," Niall says quietly, and makes a face. "I'm just - nervous."

"Okay," Zayn laughs. "Why are you nervous?"

"I was just - well, I'm getting a degree in music tech, right, and I, I don't have to stay in one place to do it, and, um, a couple of my professors have given me contacts and, I think I can -"

His hands settle on Zayn's knees, slide down to palm his thighs, and then his waist. "Well, if you were ever traded I could follow you, but for now I - I'd have to move out of the fraternity house and find a place, and since you're gonna - I mean, you have your contract now so you'll finally be playing in the actual fucking state I live in for a few years at least, and I know you're just like, crashing with Ocean at the moment but now we can, y'know, find a place," he takes a short, sharp breath, "together, and, um. Live. Together," he finishes with a furrowed brow and a shake of his head.

Zayn smiles builds, sweet and faltering. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Well, not," Niall snaps at the waistband of Zayn's underwear, still nervous. "Not right _now_ , obviously. Because, like. Yeah. But. Yeah. Um. Soon."

He looks up at Zayn again and sighs, buries his face in the crook of Zayn's neck. "That's a dumb idea, isn't it? You'd be away like half of the year anyway, so it's not like -"

"Yeah," Zayn answers. Niall lifts his head.

"What?"

"Yeah, let's do it. It'd be nice," he says, knuckles brushing along Niall's jaw. "Coming home to you."

Niall watches him for a moment. He isn't smiling. "You're not just saying that?"

Zayn kisses him, only once, and Niall touches their foreheads together with a sigh that might be in relief. "No," he says, with another soft laugh. "I'm not just saying that."

He thinks Niall might smile, finally.

"I'll start looking as soon as I get back," he says.

*

It takes awhile. Niall's bogged down in coursework, trying to cram in as much as he can, and Zayn's busy with a major league schedule of his own. He gets pulled down, once, back to Triple-A for a few weeks to work out kinks and nerves and it's frustrating, it's so frustrating, but Niall FaceTimes him apartments when he can visit them, emails Zayn listings in between classes when he can't.

Zayn gets called back up in August, and ends the regular season with one of the best ERAs in the league and a third place finish for the Cy Young award. They get knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, but it's okay, because there's always next year, and the year after that, and the one after that.

By Fall, Niall's found it - the perfect place, he says, and they sign a year lease in October, midway through the world series and two months before Niall graduates from college.

They move in without much fuss, and when the last box is brought in and the last parent is waved away, Niall leans against the door of the apartment and lets out a slow breath, eyes on Zayn a few feet away. The crown of his head thumps gently backwards, and when he smiles, it's trembling.

He gives this sweet, hiccupy laugh and Zayn's lips spread into a quick grin and then he's falling forward easy, stepping in close with his hands on Niall's jaw. Zayn kisses him, pushes him hard against the door, and Niall grabs him around the middle, hand fisting the back of his shirt. 

"Fucking finally," he says, breathless, pulling away just enough to speak, and Zayn only holds on tighter, arms around his shoulders. 

It's a Saturday. Niall doesn't have class in the morning. Zayn doesn't have a return flight date stamped like a brand at the back of his mind. For the first time since high school, they have time.

Zayn knows they're going to use it well.


	9. zayn, 24; niall, 23.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall hums. “You’re staring at me, weirdo.”
> 
> He cracks open an eye, and smiles. Zayn feels too big for his body and Niall’s smile softens and he says, “What?”
> 
> Zayn blinks, ducks so he can rest his head on Niall’s shoulder. "Harry told me this thing," he says, "about red strings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* "18"!!!!!! "18"!!!!!!!!!!

They get a puppy for the New Year.

Or rather - Zayn wakes up four days before he turns twenty-three with a golden retriever on his chest and Niall smiling down at him, snow melting fast on his coat and in his hair. "Hi," he says cheerfully, taking off the coat as Zayn gets a cold snout buried at his collarbone. "Happy early birthday."

Zayn blinks blearily awake, sits up carefully with the puppy in his lap; it whines for a moment, wriggling, and he lifts it up under its front paws to study it.

"Hello," he says to it instead of Niall. He peers down to get a closer look and -

 _He_ licks Zayn's nose.

Zayn cuddles the puppy close, sleepily leans into the kiss Niall gives him before Niall flops down at the end of the bed, arm folded up under him. "What is this?"

"It's called a dog," Niall teases, and when Zayn clicks his tongue, smiling, he elaborates: "We've been talking about it for ages now. And I wanted to surprise you."

Zayn buries his face in the puppy's coat for a moment, patting it's tummy. He has a collar already, and now Zayn gets why Niall's been warding him away from the hallway closet for weeks now.

"You went like, batshit at Petco didn't you."

"He may or may not have three separate beds to choose from," Niall says, and rolls onto his back. Zayn hands over the puppy and Niall hefts him up Lion King style, makes a kissy face. "Got him from the anti-cruelty society downtown. Had to wait for him to hit ten weeks before I could take him home, though."

He lets the puppy settle onto his chest and strokes it's back with a soft smile on his face. He glances at Zayn, head tipped against the bedsheets. "You're happy, right?"

"Yeah, you dork," Zayn laughs and folds over, combs a hand through Niall's hair and kisses him again. "What's his name?"

"Puppy," Niall declares, craning his neck for another kiss. "No, he doesn't have one yet. I figured I'd let you decide, since he's yours."

"He's ours," Zayn says automatically, and nuzzles its face. "How about... -"

"I will nut punch you if you say Tony Stark -"

"Thor," Zayn finishes.

"Thor," Niall repeats, and curls up on his side with the puppy between them. The puppy is gnawing on his finger with new, harmless teeth. "Are you a Thor? Huh? Mighty Thor with your big hammer paws," he says in a baby voice, holding the puppy's front paws gently in his hands. It yips, a not-quite bark, tail wagging between the sheets, and Niall grins.

"Thor it is, then."

*

Zayn's sophomore season in the Majors starts, and he goes on the road again. There's a window of time mid-June where he has a slew of home games in a row and comes back to Niall. Thor's practically twice the size since Zayn last saw him, and his massive paws thump Zayn on the chest energetically when he walks through the door.

"Hiii," Zayn singsongs, scratching behind his ears, shutting the door behind him. "Where's your dad, huh?"

"Mm," a tired voice says, and an arm appears over the back end of the sofa.

Zayn backs away to let Thor drop down, says _C'mon_ , and he finds Niall half asleep on the sofa, curled up with his head on a throw pillow. "Day off. So tired. Nap time," he mutters, and sticks out both arms without opening his eyes, "you, too."

Zayn drops his carry-on, shoves one knee onto the sofa and then stretches out along the edge. He kisses Niall hello, and Niall wraps an arm around his back so he doesn't fall off. 

"Too tired for complete sentences?" Zayn asks him, adjusting so Niall can rest his head on his forearm. He smacks his lips, blinks his eyes open for a moment before shutting them again.

"So tired. No talking," he says, and this time, Zayn aims a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Did you miss me?"

"Mmf," Niall mumbles. "Stupid question."

Thor jumps up onto the sofa and manages to squeeze into a tight, curled up ball on their feet. Zayn tips dangerously back and then scoots further in, arm digging between the cushions. He tugs on something stuck there and pulls out a stuffed monkey. He raises an eyebrow.

"Um. What is this?"

Niall cracks open an eye, quick, and lets out a quiet laugh. "Brother was here last week, brought Theo with." 

He curls into Zayn now, half on his chest, and Zayn walks the monkey over his own stomach, onto the hand Niall has resting on his chest. He pretends to kiss Niall with it, who chuckles softly into the folds of Zayn's shirt.

"How old is he now?"

"Two and a half," Niall answers sleepily. "Very climb-y."

"I love little kids," Zayn says. "Always have. Probably my sisters should have turned me off that, but."

"Me too. Always thought I'd have at least one."

Zayn stops playing with the monkey. "You want kids?"

"Yeah," Niall sighs, face mashed against Zayn's chest. "Do you?"

Zayn's fingers are shifting aimless across Niall's shoulders, down his side, and he hesitates for a moment. He aims for nonchalant when he says, "Yeah, I do."

Niall hums, rubs his face into Zayn's shirt, and it's a long while before he murmurs, "Kid with your eyelashes'd be gorgeous."

Zayn smiles, and smooths a hand under Niall's shirt. "Kid with your eyes would be even better."

He's not even sure Niall's heard; his breathing is almost even, but then he says softly, nearly asleep, "You'd be a great dad, Zayn."

And just like that, Zayn stills.

"Shit," he whispers in hushed revelation, and laughs.

*

He tells Liam first, who only keeps it in for about a day and a half before Zayn gets a ten paragraph email from Harry with no less than seven sets of ellipses and three quotes from famous dead people.

Louis calls him the day after that, and Zayn can hear his girlfriend laughing in the background as he says, " _Like a fucking lightbulb going off, huh, Malik_."

(It takes a couple of months for Zayn to figure out all the details, and then another to finally work up the courage.)

*

In September, he comes home for a three game series and a day off after - a long, well-deserved weekend in his apartment, with his dog and his boyfriend. They go for a drive one night, leave Thor at home, and Niall makes a noise of confusion when Zayn pulls into the parking lot strip across from their old high school baseball field.

"Why are we here?"

"Mm." Zayn shifts the car into park and kills the engine. "Nostalgia? You in?"

"Front gate's locked."

They climb out of the car, and Zayn gets the trunk open, takes out a bat and a ball, a glove, the mitt he uses when he plays. Niall's already headed towards the fence, surveying it with his hands on his hips.

Zayn tucks the ball in one of the gloves, shoves both under his arm and carries the bat on his shoulder. "Can you hop it?" he asks, nodding towards the low end, past the dugout. 

"Fuck you," Niall laughs.

"Your knee," Zayn starts, and Niall lifts a middle finger his way and starts to clamber up the fence. "Real nice."

"You love me," Niall tells him, matter-of-fact, leg hooked over the top of fence, sat on the top of it.

Zayn throws over the gloves, hefts the bat next with a grunt. By the time he makes it to the top of the fence, Niall's on the ground. He blows a raspberry and Niall cackles this time, glancing over his shoulder.

He tosses the extra glove Niall's way, and then the ball; Niall catches both easily. "Think you can get a hit off me?"

"Oh, he's in the Majors for a couple years and suddenly he's hot shit," Niall teases, throwing the ball back.

"You love me," Zayn tells him, mocking, and Niall shrugs, but he's smiling as he crosses the infield to get to the home plate. The rest of the bases are missing - tucked away in storage for another handful of months until the season starts - but the pitcher's slab is there, same as ever.

They play catch in the fading light of day until Niall eventually throws his glove to the side and picks up the bat instead. "Let's see what you got then," he says, getting into his stance, comically wiggling the end of the bat in the air as he grips the handle.

Zayn licks his lips and throws a fastball; Niall watches the pitch fly past him, and the ball hits the fence with a smash. He laughs, loud, and points the end of the bat at Zayn. 

" _Fucker_."

"Hot shit," Zayn corrects with a half smile.

He lobs the ball underhand when he gets it back this time and Niall swings and misses. He snorts, hikes his jeans up and goes to get it, uses what little moonlight he’s getting through the clouds to find it, then throws it back to Zayn. 

“Again, I can’t be this rusty.”

Niall kicks his left leg back and forth for a moment when he gets back to home, shaking out the kinks in his knee, and then crouches a bit, elbow cocked in the air behind him, a proper stance this time. Zayn goes through the motions of a pitch lazily - an exaggerated wind up, a slow release.

The ball arcs towards home, and Zayn can almost see the glint in Niall’s eye, knows the bat will connect the second Niall takes his swing. There’s a loud crack of aluminum-on-ball and it’s soaring over first base and into right field; a moment later they hear the telltale tine of a chain link fence being rattled by a ball thumping against it.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. Niall drops his bat and runs.

“Come on,” Zayn whines through a grin, but Niall’s already rounding first, laughing, and Zayn darts off towards right field, pulls his phone out along the way with the flashlight widget on so he can find the ball.

“I don’t do outfield!” he shouts, and Niall rounds second and cackles.

Zayn catches up when Niall reaches third; he’s slowing down, doing this little hop-skip-step in between strides that let Zayn know his knee is bothering him again, will always bother him.

“Hey, stop running,” Zayn says as he jogs over, but Niall pants out a laugh and hobbles to home. He plants his feet on the plate, winces through his smile, and stops, finally. He links his hands behind his head, breathes hard through his nose as he mutters, “I win.”

Zayn says, with all the fondness a person can hold for a best friend, “Idiot.”

Niall shakes his leg out again and nods because, yeah, that’s definitely going to be sore later, but then he grins a breathless grin and curls his fingers into the front of of Zayn’s shirt to pull him in. Zayn lets the baseball drop to the dirt, shuffles his feet onto home and kisses Niall once before turning around and holding his hands up. Niall takes the offer, jumps off one foot and onto Zayn’s back, and Zayn piggybacks him towards the home dugout.

He crouches when he gets to the bench, just enough that Niall can drop down, and then flops into the seat next to him.

“You okay?” He reaches out, touches his fingers to Niall’s thigh, just above his knee, and Niall nods, his head against the painted, chipped concrete wall.

He reaches for Zayn’s hand with closed eyes, and Zayn thinks it’s funny that there are so many different ways to be at home on a baseball diamond, but it’s the most familiar when he’s got Niall sitting next to him.

Niall hums. “You’re staring at me, weirdo.”

He cracks open an eye, and smiles. Zayn feels too big for his body and Niall’s smile softens and he says, “What?”

Zayn blinks, ducks so he can rest his head on Niall’s shoulder. "Harry told me this thing," he says, "about red strings."

A thumb skates across his wrist bone. “Yeah?”

“It's called like, red string of fate,” Zayn explains. “You get one end and someone else gets another and it keeps you connected no matter how far apart you are, or how many obstacles get thrown your way.”

He kicks at the dirt under his feet, scuffs the ground with the heel of his boot. “Think it’s only supposed to be meant for two people - but. I don’t know. I’m starting to think it’s got other uses.”

Niall murmurs, “Us five,” and when Zayn nods, he goes tense. “But - me and you?”

"Right," Zayn nods again. "I think I was meant to find you guys. There’s a red string between the five of us, and we met because of this game and - and baseball’s are all stitched up red, too, and that’s what kept us together, y’know? We’ve all graduated or gone away and moved to different cities and different states, but what’s always connected us is the one thing we love.

"Strings that are knotted and stitched up and tangled together are always stronger. And if I think about it, baseball is our red string. Because it brought me them." He picks his head up. "And it brought me you."

"Zayn," he's whispering, "are you - …you’re - ?"

(And Niall never stumbles over his words, never says anything without knowing exactly what he wants, but he freezes up now, looks at Zayn like he’s afraid to breathe.)

"I love baseball," Zayn says. "And... I love you so - so fucking much, and it’s just - it’s everything I want. Everything." He stops, and laughs.

"Is there," Niall clears his throat. "I mean, is there a question here? I feel like this is, uh, a lead-in to a question."

Zayn studies Niall, repeats: “I’m. I love you.”

"Love you, too," Niall says with a slow nod, waiting for the and.

"And, um," Zayn hesitates. "If I, if I maybe had a question what, um. What would you say?"

Niall lifts a shoulder. “Depends on what kind of question it is.”

"It’s a good one," Zayn says. "I - or, I think it is."

Niall’s chest rises and falls a touch too quick and he’s chewing on the corner of his mouth before he asks quietly, “Is it a yes or no question?”

The ends of Zayn’s mouth quirk up.

Niall touches their foreheads together gently before pulling away. “Then… I think I’d say yes.”

"I," Zayn starts to smile. “Yeah?”

"You know," Niall licks his bottom lip and breaks out into a grin. "If you asked."

Zayn bites Niall’s shoulder through his shirt. “Okay,” he says softly, and Niall noses along his hairline.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Zayn pulls back, stuffs his hand in his jacket and takes out of it the tiny box he’s carried around for weeks. He balances it on Niall’s good knee and Niall looks down, reaches for it with gentle hands. 

The smile he aims at Zayn is soft and sweet and Zayn sort of feels like he’s seventeen again, not-so-subtly trying to impress some blond kid with braces and skinny legs. Niall fiddles with the thick red string Zayn had wrapped around it like a promise and says, quietly amazed, “Yeah?”

"You’re the only one." Zayn’s fingers take the box’s place and curl around Niall’s knee. "You know? Since high school, it’s. It’s you. It’s always been you."

Niall's rolling an end of the red string between his fingers, twirling it around again and again, knotting it together without even realizing. “Louis’ll be mad he wasn’t first.”

Zayn tries to remember how to inhale properly. “He’ll live,” he says. And: “Is that a yes?”

"Liam’s going to expect a card in the mail or something gross and proper like that."

"I’ll handwrite it myself," Zayn tells him, quick and a little helpless. "Niall, is that a yes?"

Niall looks down at the box for a long moment and picks it back up. “Red string, huh?”

Zayn’s heart is hammering. “Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Zayn is twenty-three and in love, and he knows some of their friends will probably think they'll be reckless to get married so young -

Not Louis, who stopped an awful train of thought before it could start and said Niall was too good to ever be a bad decision, and not Harry, who gave him the idea of asking Niall where it all started in the first place, and not Liam, who went with Zayn to buy the ring -

But Zayn is twenty-three, and he can be as reckless as he fucking wants, so long as he’s got Niall right next to him, every step of the way.

Niall ducks his head to hide a smile at Zayn’s shoulder. "Fuck," he says, letting out a huff of laughter. "You have a _ring_."

He sounds fond, disbelieving, like he has no idea how he got here but he can't really imagine being anyplace else.

"Please tell me that's a yes so I can stop freaking out - " Zayn inhales shakily when he gets cut off with a kiss, Niall's hands heavy on his jaw. In one hand he clutches the ring box, an edge of it digging into Zayn's cheek. 

Zayn clasps his fingers around Niall's wrists and kisses him back.

*

They wait until Spring. The weather has just started to warm up when Zayn finds Niall on the verge of a panic attack, huddled by himself at the end of the hallway of his parents' house away from where most of their friends and family are gathered in the backyard. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, tie unknotted and top buttons of his shirt undone, and he smiles weakly at Zayn, mouth wobbling.

Zayn doesn't think, just grabs his wrist and drags him down the hallway and up the main set of stairs. He hooks left when he gets there, takes the familiar steps to Niall's old room. It's the same as it was in high school, barring some storage boxes his parents have presumably added in over time. Zayn shuts the door, watches Niall lean back against the wall, take in a sharp breath.

"Niall," he starts, but Niall shakes his head, closes his eyes.

"Hold on. Trying not to do something embarrassing like faint."

Zayn laughs, soft and sympathetic. "Babe."

"Shh." Niall's mouth is upturned at the ends. He opens his eyes and Zayn lifts a hand, runs a thumb over Niall's cheekbone. 

"We can do this," Zayn says. 

Niall inhales deep, fiddles with Zayn's collar. When he releases his breath, he smiles. He bumps his forehead against Zayn's, plants a quick kiss to his mouth. "Yeah, we can do this."

"You already said yes once," Zayn reminds him with another slight laugh. "Sort of. Now we just have to say it again in front of our friends."

"I know," Niall says, cupping his face, kissing him again. "I know. I just - we're not gonna fuck this up, right?"

Zayn shakes his head. "We're not gonna fuck this up."

"'Cause this is like," he's out of breath still, smiling before he presses his lips together, "forever, y'know?"

"I hope so," Zayn says. "Are those your vows, by the way? 'Let's not fuck this up, I love you.'"

"Shut up," Niall chuckles, and his hands are trembling, but he kisses Zayn again, only once and for a long moment, sure, as the door opens. "I do, though."

"Um... pretty sure you guys are doing this wrong."

They both look towards where Harry is standing, hand on the doorknob, amused expression on his face. "Found 'em," he calls without looking away, and a few beats later, Louis and Liam appear.

"I don't know if you two know this, but there's this thing going on downstairs," Louis says, looking both very frazzled and very annoyed by this feeling. "You're both invited, sort of important...?"

"Shit," Niall laughs. "Are they looking for us?"

"We're the search party," Liam says. He smiles. "C'mon."

They're halfway down the stairs when Louis tells them idly, "If you wanted a pre-wedding fuck, all you had to do was say."

"Oh my God," Liam sighs tiredly, tipping his head back, eyes falling shut.

"No, that's good," Harry says, hands in his pockets as they hit the first floor and make their way towards the backyard. 

"I'm going to put that in my toast."

*

Zayn still doesn't do dances, but he's got one of Niall's arms around his waist, and a hand in his, and it's pretty fucking wonderful like this, in the end. Ed's up front, sitting on a stool with a guitar and Liam next to him, hands on a microphone stand. They aren't so much dancing as they are swaying gently in place, and Zayn glances a kiss to his temple and says, "You better?"

In typical Niall fashion, he mumbles, "I am fucking tripping on how happy I am right now, you nut."

Zayn laughs, and tugs him in closer. Softly, he says, "Good," and Liam croons on about how they're _a long way from the playground_.

He can feel the band on Niall's finger from where his hand is curled warm at Zayn's nape and Zayn thinks about flying straight from a game to a hospital five hundred miles away, thinks about prom night spent on a beach with his best friends, thinks about sitting in a car with a boy past curfew and knowing - absolutely fucking knowing - that somehow, _somehow_ , he was the firstlastonly.

( _I have loved you since we were eighteen_ , the song goes, and Zayn thinks yeah. Yes. 

Always.)


	10. zayn, 31; niall, 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn stuffs his hands in his pockets, smiles even wider, down at his shoes. It's hard, sometimes, to believe that he has this - that he has them. That he has everything. People are lucky if they find one person they love who can love them back unconditionally but Zayn -
> 
> Zayn has so many he's lost count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait - I've had an incredibly shit time the past few months, and have only now just got things (mildly) under control. 
> 
> Anyway, so, here is the last part of the last fic. It feels weird to know I won't post anything else for this fandom, might not post anything for any other fandom, either, but I want to use this last note to say thank you for all of the kudos/comments/messages/love/support I've received over the years. You have all made me work, made me really try, and I honestly feel like writing for this fandom has made me a better, more competent, more _confident_ writer. Writing is the one thing I truly love in this world, and I owe you all so much for that, you have no idea. Thank you for letting me be a part of this, and for enjoying the things I write while letting me enjoy it, too - I can't tell you how much I've appreciated it.  <3

Zayn meets her four years after his team wins the pennant.

He's nervously twisting his World Series ring around the middle finger of his right hand when the nurse finally calls them into a private room, keeps right on twisting it until Niall says his name, hushed, a hand suddenly gripping his shoulder tight.

It's been hours, and he'd thought maybe something had gone wrong, maybe they'd take her away even though she's biologically half his, but the nurse is smiling when she hands him this tiny, fragile human swaddled tight. And there's still so much to do, so much to deal with - birth rights, and legal documents, and lawyers, and Niall's pending second-parent adoption - but he looks down and knows, right then and there, that he'd die for her.

He lifts the cradle of his arms to kiss her forehead, and closes his eyes when Niall laughs next to him, overwhelmed. "Hi," he says, in this soft, sweetly lilting way, reaching out to grab a miniscule, mittened hand.

Zayn hands her off carefully, and Niall takes her, touches his forehead to hers for a moment like he's breathing her in. He lifts his head, and he's smiling, eyes bright.

"I can't believe she's here."

Zayn wipes his own eyes, tugs Niall in gentle with a hand at his nape to press a kiss to his temple, and Niall sways in place and says, "Welcome to the world, baby girl."

*

Thor's seen plenty of kids by now - their various nephews and nieces, Louis' twins, and Liam's son have all visited enough - but he seems confused when they walk through the door for the first time. Everything's already set up in the spare-room-turned-nursery of the house they bought three years ago, and Niall's hanging their coats up when Zayn grabs her out of the car seat and sits down in the rocking chair in the corner.

She's so small, nestled against his chest, his hand holding up her head. Zayn's staring down at her, still not quite sure how the world entrusted them with such a fragile, beautiful girl, when Thor comes padding in cautiously.

Niall puttering around in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot. Zayn says, "C'mere, puppy," and Thor takes a few more careful steps. Zayn gingerly shifts her around so he's cradling her instead, her head resting in the crook of his elbow. "Sit."

Thor does, and he hesitantly cranes his neck forward to sniff her arm, covered in a onesie. 

"This is Zahra," Zayn tells him. Thor sniffs a leg, this time, and then her hand, nudging it gently with his snout. "You have to be careful with her, okay? She's a baby, and she needs a lot of protecting, so you gotta watch over her."

He hears a quiet laugh, and when he looks up, Niall's leaning in the doorway, watching the scene play out. Zayn smiles, and continues on:

"I know you're used to being the only other one in the house, but she's here now, and she's our family, and you have to love her."

Thor's tail swishes against the carpeting. Niall laughs a little louder. "He can't understand you, Zayn, he probably just heard _blah blah house blah blah family blah blah love_."

"He gets the gist of it," Zayn says, smiling. "Don't you, boy?"

Thor's tail wags quicker. He licks Zahra's mittened hand and lets out a whimper.

(They must get up a dozen times that first night, and Zayn's just about to fall into a sluggish sleep at the crack of dawn when Niall crawls back into bed and snuggles in close; he sounds like he's smiling when he says, "Thor's sleeping under her crib."

"Told you," Zayn mumbles, mouth mashed against his pillow. "Gist of it.")

*

They'd planned it so she'd be born during the off-season, and it works out perfectly: an October baby, just as the leaves change color. It's Zayn's favorite time of year, and also means he gets a few months of uninterrupted bliss - or, well, so far it's been a month of irregular sleep patterns and a colicky baby, but even with the lack of sleep and general air of crankiness, Zayn can't complain too much.

He wakes up with a start a few weeks before the new year to silence and an empty bed. He rubs his eyes, scrubs a hand through his hair, and shuffles out of their bedroom and into Zahra's. Her crib is empty, and Zayn furrows his brow and yawns, heads out into the living room instead to find Niall sitting on the sofa, cradling Zahra in his arms.

She's actually sleeping, so Zayn drops down as carefully as he can, slings an arm around Niall's shoulder to comb a hand through his hair. "It's four in the morning, what're you doing up?"

Niall shrugs. "Just wanted to hold her."

Zayn brushes at her hair with his other hand - she's got soft tufts of dark brown already. "Finally stopped crying?"

"Yeah." He studies her for a long moment, and then looks at Zayn, happy. "She has your nose, you know. And your eyes."

Zayn scrunches his nose up, shifts closer to look down at her. "Y'think?"

"Mhm," Niall nods, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. Zayn cups his jaw, kisses the edge of it, the corner of Niall's mouth, and then dead on. 

"She's just as much yours as she is mine," he says when he breaks away, and Niall smiles, just a sweet upturn to his mouth, and nuzzles into Zayn's hand.

"I know." He looks down at her again. "She's gonna have a great life."

"Amazing life," Zayn agrees. "She's going to have everything."

Niall tips to the side so he can rest his head on Zayn's shoulder. "And we're gonna give it to her, right?"

Zayn hums, smiling, and smacks a kiss to the top of Niall's head. "Right."

*

A few weeks before Valentine's Day, Zayn is heading into the living room to tell Niall dinner is ready when he ends up stopping short at the picture before him. He leans against the doorframe, smiles briefly at Niall dozing on the couch. 

(Yesterday was his turn to get up at night; he's been dragging his feet all day - Zayn's surprised it's taken him this long to crash, honestly.)

He's stretched along the length of the sofa, baseball cap - the ratty one, from their old high school - pulled low over his eyes. On his chest is Zahra, snuffling in her sleep, mouth open and hair mussed. Niall has one hand on her back to hold her in place - she's got a hold of his other, with her chubby hand clutched tight around his index finger.

Zayn stuffs his hands in his pockets, smiles even wider, down at his shoes. It's hard, sometimes, to believe that he has this - that he has them. That he has everything. People are lucky if they find one person they love who can love them back unconditionally but Zayn -

Zayn has so many he's lost count.

Niall jerks slightly, and inhales sharp. He makes a sleepy sound, lifts the hand Zahra's not holding to knock his ballcap up and rub at his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose.

Like he can sense Zayn is there, he says, "Dreamt I was jumping off a boat. In Australia."

His voice is scratchy and he blinks and looks over at Zayn. "There were people in a helicopter taking pictures. That's weird, right? Lou, Liam and Harry were there. And you."

"Was there also a scarecrow? Tin man, maybe?"

Niall laughs low and rumbling, his chest shaking; Zahra knits her brows together and cries out in her sleep, and Niall cuts himself off, brushes gentle fingers through her hair until she settles back in.

"She's like, completely sweat through my shirt," Niall says this as fond as he's ever said anything. "Why do babies get so hot when they sleep on you? And her cheeks get all pink and cute and I swear her eyelashes get longer - she got that from you, obviously, not the surrogate," he looks over, trails off when he sees Zayn's face.

"What?"

Zayn's grinning, shaking his head quick. "Nothing."

A smile pulls at Niall's mouth. His cheeks are ruddy, one hand on their daughter's back, and Zayn never wants this moment to end. 

"Seriously, what?"

"I love you so fucking much," Zayn tells him. 

Niall grins so wide, so quick that his eyes fold into wrinkles, the bridge of his nose crinkles up. He lets out a huff of laughter and dips the cap down over his face to hide the way he flushes, beet-red and deliriously, delightfully happy, before mumbling through it, "Good, 'cause you're stuck with me."

*

It's the last week of July when Zayn has a string of home games and a small break and finally gets to sleep in his own bed for a change - they've decided against Niall traveling with significant others and children to away games until Zahra's a little older, and it's terrible, being away from her, but Zayn tries not to think about it much, tries to enjoy the time he does have with them instead. 

As it is right at this moment, he's in the living room, watching Zahra grip the edge of the coffee table next to her while swaying slightly. Thor is seated patiently behind her, fluffy golden tail swishing slowly back and forth along the carpet while Zayn sits in front, legs stretched to the sides and arms reaching out.

"C'mon, you can do it." He waggles his fingers enticingly. She babbles something and he nods like he understands. "Please? Just one step. A tiny step." He lifts his brows. "You want ice cream, little love?"

"It's frozen yogurt," Niall corrects from the kitchen. "Don't bribe her _and_ blaspheme, Z."

"It's not blasphemous; it's healthier," Zayn says without looking away. She dips a little. 

" _It's a lie masquerading as ice cream!_ "

"Don't listen to your daddy," Zayn says. "Just take a step, sweetheart." 

Zahra lets go for a moment, wobbles for a half step before she goes back to clutching. Zayn gasps exaggeratedly through a grin - and seriously, he's never been more excited about mundane things in the past year than he has his whole life. "Yeah, there you go!"

She smiles, and her eyes turn into little crescent moons - just like Niall, even if she didn't come from him. Zayn coos, "I'm so proud of you for letting go. Come here so I can give you a hug?"

He waggles his fingers again and Zahra lets go, finally; she wobbles unsteadily, but takes a step without using the table. Zayn feels simultaneously like his heart is going to fall out of his mouth _and_ like he wants to throw her a parade and his stupid phone is all the way across the room and _Niall is missing this_.

"Niall?" He sounds panicky, and Niall says, "What?"

She takes another step. 

"Niall! Niall. _Niallniallniall_ \- she's _walking_ -"

" _What?!_ " There's the sound of pans clattering loudly onto the stovetop and Niall shuffling around muttering, "Ow - ! Shit, fuck, stupid _fucking_ bullshit sauce motherfu -"

"Less swearing, more filming!" Zayn shouts, eyes wide and Niall practically trips his way into the living room, iPhone in hand.

Niall grins, walking carefully behind her as Thor circles around him excitedly. Zahra takes another step, and another, and then she's stumbling into Zayn's open arms. Zayn laughs, hugs her close and kisses the crown of her head. He hears the shutter sound of Niall's camera going off, and then Niall's cheering - that kind of faux-stadium sound - and says in an announcer voice, "Standing ovation! Someone get this baby a medal! A trophy! Give her actual ice cream!"

"Quiet," Zayn laughs, nuzzling his nose into her hair. Niall nudges him in the back with his knee, drops down carefully beside Zayn; he folds his good leg under him, stretches the other out behind Zayn's back.

He settles in, plops a chin on Zayn's shoulder, aims a lazy kiss at his jaw. Zahra pats his mouth with a hand and he makes a chomping sound against her palm like he's going to gobble her up. She laughs, and he laughs, too. "You are literally the best kid in the world," he tells her. "And you deserve real ice cream."

"Let it go, babe," Zayn murmurs, and Niall makes a whining sound that Thor mimics until Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs Zahra around her middle, pushes off the floor with a hand.

"Fine, fine," he helps Niall up, pulls him into another kiss before patting his hip and heading towards the kitchen to survey the damage. There's pasta sauce on the stove dripping onto the floor, and the half-cooked spaghetti droops pathetically in the pot on the back burner. 

"Oops?" Niall says with a smile, and Thor pads past him to lick the sauce off the floor.

Zayn shakes his head, sways a little from side to side with Zahra in his arms. "We'll go out for ice cream." He glances at Niall. "Order pizza when we get back?"

"Perfect," Niall nods and Zayn grins and figures yeah. 

It really is.


End file.
